


Masks

by silveronthetree



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Blow Jobs, Bookworm Jason Todd, Case Fic, Dick Grayson in a Superman costume, Disguise, M/M, Mutual Pining, Off screen child death, Pre-New 52, Romance, and can't believe it's finally complete, i started writing this ten years ago, technology is not Jason's friend, what new 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/pseuds/silveronthetree
Summary: A continuation of pre-New 52 canon.Jason's back in Gotham and getting to know it again. All he wants to do is figure out how he can successfully help fix his city, without falling foul of the rest of the Bats and the GCPD again. He's even hung up his red hood in an attempt to stay under the radar. A chance encounter with Alfred changes all that.Jason tries to investigate the suspicious death of a child while avoiding Alfred and Nightwing. He isn't very successful on either count.When he has to infiltrate a masked gala at Wayne Manor as part of his investigation, he ends up flirting with Dick to stop him interfering with his plans. Dick doesn't realise who he is and flirts back until they end up making out in a closet. Afterwards neither of them can get the encounter out of their heads, and they start to get to know each other again.





	1. Part 1 - Jason

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing art for this story by Lex_of_Gotham can also be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904518/chapters/49693076#workskin). 
> 
> Many thanks to musesfool for the beta and encouragement, and Lex_of_Gotham for their patience and for making the pictures in my head look even better in reality.

Jason's only been back in Gotham for a few weeks. He's been flying under the radar since his return, avoiding everyone who might know who he is, either as Jason or as the Red Hood. It's a big city so it's been easier than he expected. Getting out of Gotham for a time had been good for him. He'd gone as far away as he could and something about getting that distance had blunted the sharp edge of anger that had been driving him for so long. He's still angry sure, but helping Sasha settle in her new life and watch her do ordinary things and be happy has softened something in him. Eventually he'd known it was time to leave -- an ordinary life wasn't for him. The city he grew up in, his city, has a siren’s song of its own.

There’s a strange comfort in being back in Gotham. Nothing really changes. Same shit, different year or something like that. Sure there are a few cosmetic differences to Gotham and some shuffling of ranks in every organization from crime to civic, but nothing major. Having the real Batman back clearly isn’t too much of a change. The biggest difference for Jason is that it's odd to be back without a clear purpose, He’s here to find out what Gotham needs him to do.

He’s been – well it isn't really patrolling -- getting reacquainted with his city, maybe, on the streets and through surveillance. He's just following his instincts. If he sees heightened activity in an area, he goes there to see what's happening. He's broken up a few fights, stopped a few muggers and deals if he sees them, but nothing big. So far Jason has managed not to capture the attention of any of the Bats. He’s been leaving off the Hood since he came back. It’s too recognizable and represents a ticket straight back to Arkham if he’s caught. He can’t deal with Arkham again. He might be a little crazy, but he knows his limits and he was lucky enough to get out relatively unscathed the first time. 

Since he's been back, he's been reluctant to return to his previous methods. Fighting crime by controlling it doesn't feel like the right choice for him anymore, and the instinct to go straight for the kill is gone. The outcome was never quite what he'd planned, and he isn't one to keep trying the same thing and expect a different result. 

It's early one morning after a long night on the streets. Jason's just picked up a much-needed coffee at a gas station for his ride home, when he looks up and sees Alfred Pennyworth. Jason freezes with his coffee halfway to his mouth. He isn't ready for this. 

Alfred's waiting for the attendant to finish filling the tank of a very familiar-looking car. It's the one that he'd used to take Jason to school, ordinary by Wayne standards, and Jason wouldn't have given it a second glance. But it contains Alfred. Jason discards his half-drunk cup on the closest surface and immediately starts up his bike. He shoots a glance at Alfred, who is now safely back in the car. If he's lucky Alfred won't recognise him. He raises his hand to push down the visor of his helmet as he manoeuvres out of the gas station, but before he lowers it, he must catch Alfred's attention and they exchange a startled glance. Alfred starts to get out of his seat and is jerked back by the seat belt. It’s the most startled Jason has ever seen him.

Jason ignores the faint sound of his name as he guns his bike onto the road, weaving in and out of the slow-moving traffic. He ignores the pounding of his heart, and the urge to turn back and - he doesn't know what - do something.

He's miles away before it hits him. It's Thursday, and this was always part of Alfred's Thursday routine - drop off Jason at school, get gas and then go to the fresh produce market in Bristol. He'd even joined him once or twice when he'd had a day off school, watching Alfred's focus as he selected the perfect fruit for the pavlova he planned to make that night, and his patience when he'd explained what to look for in each type of fruit. They'd had a delivery service for most things, but Alfred had always enjoyed selecting the right produce for particular dishes. They'd always stopped at this gas station on those Thursdays. Had Alfred dropped off the Replacement, or possibly Talia's brat at school? Did they even go to school? Jason doesn't really care. It's Thursday and Jason ended up at that exact gas station. Maybe working by instinct isn't the best idea.

Jason heads back to his apartment to sleep but feels unsettled all day. He's been doing such a good job of staying under the Bats' radar since he's been back. He didn't expect he'd see someone in the daytime, in a gas station of all places. And Alfred. He doesn't want to think about how much he misses Alfred. Alfred and Bruce are so entangled in that part of his life that it's hard to think of one without the other. He keeps going over the encounter in his head until he can't bear it. Going out for a drink might be the perfect antidote to spending the whole night in with his own thoughts.

* * *

Jason's been to this bar a couple of times since he's been back in Gotham. It's near the first apartment he stayed in. He didn't know the area too well before, it's changed since he was a kid, but there's a lot going on, both legal and illegal, and he likes it here. He sits himself at the bar and orders a beer. Despite everything he still gets a kick out of legally ordering alcohol in Gotham. He keeps to himself, but discreetly watches everyone around him. There's a very rowdy group at the table behind him, and they're loud enough for him to overhear their conversation without even trying. They aren’t typical henchmen, and he doesn’t recognise them, so he doesn’t pay much attention as they talk through the job they’ve just finished. They're all around his age, early to mid-twenties and are laughing a lot. It must be fun to be part of a group like that, to belong. 

There's a loud cheery one, who keeps getting up to feed the jukebox (judging from the music selection, he's a disco fan), one with a hard look in his eyes, a quiet one, who looks vaguely uneasy, and a younger one with a lot of tattoos. 

Jason nurses his beer and flicks through the books on his phone. But he doesn't want to think right now and reading's the perfect distraction. He might prefer the real paperback in his pocket but that'll make him stick out in this bar. The conversation fades to a series of mumbles, punctuated with shouts of laughter in the background as he gets absorbed.

He tunes in properly when he hears the uneasy one say, “I don’t see why he had to off him. It was just a kid, hardly more than a toddler. He’d never have remembered.”

“Hey Davids, you ain’t growing a conscience on us now?” the hard-eyed one asks.

“It was a kid, man,” The uneasy man, named Davids apparently, replies. He sounds a bit nauseous, to Jason’s ears. And well he should. Jason keeps his eyes on his beer. The music is loud enough, that they wouldn’t expect to be overheard, but he can't be too careful.

“Well there isn’t much we can do about it now. No one realised it wasn’t an accident.” The hard-eyed man, snorts. “Those rich fuckers covered it up pretty well. Wouldn’t want to seem negligent.”

“It wasn’t exactly what we signed up for," the tattooed one says.

Jason closes his eyes. A murdered kid. Jesus. He puts down his phone. What had they been talking about? He'd assumed they were talking about a construction job, with all the talk about travel and heavy lifting. He thinks about the recent news. There had been something about the death of a child in a fire due to a faulty gas burner, in one of the mansions in Bristol. But it hadn’t been one of the rich kids, maybe the child of a housekeeper? Maybe it was that. If it was, it clearly wasn’t an accident. Jason clenches the fist of the hand in his lap but tries to keep his face calm. Killing kids was not cool. 

The conversation moves on, as Davids, with the conscience, leaves in the direction of the restrooms, or what passed for them in this shithole of a bar. Jason finishes his drink in one go and as he looks around for one of the bar staff to get him his next drink, he uses that as an opportunity to get a good picture of the men in his mind. Jason’s enjoyment of his legal beer is ruined, but he can’t leave now -- he's going to have to investigate.

The men are getting drunker and drunker and it's likely they’ll let something slip for him to go on. He looks up the fire on his phone but there wasn’t a lot of media coverage. Just a party that had been evacuated. Most of what he can find is messages of sympathy on social media.

The cheery one returns from the jukebox, and comes up to the bar where Jason's sitting, waiting for the attention of the bartender. “Hey kid," he says smiling at Jason. Jason tries not to twitch. The man isn't much older than he is. "You’re too young to drink alone. New to town?”

Huh. This was an opportunity. Jason pastes on a slight smile and lets his natural Gotham accent out, “Nope, I’ve just been away for a bit, but didn’t want to drink alone at home on my birthday.” It isn’t actually his birthday, as much as things went when you’d been dead for a while, but no one could refuse an opening like that.

“Come and join us," Mr Cheery says. "No one should be alone on their birthday.”

“You sure? Thanks, man.” This would make things easier.

“Hey, bring a drink for the birthday boy," his new "friend" calls out. "What’re you drinking – a Blue Moon?” 

Jason accepts the drink. He introduces himself as Todd Peterson. He's pretty vague about where he’s been. He isn’t going to lead with the prison thing, but manages to imply very vaguely that he’s been with the military. Peterson has a great line in stories from his travels that never fail to be entertaining. Some of them are even true. 

Jason ends up hanging out with the group, until the end of the night. Mr Cheery is really Espinoza, hard-eyes is Trent, and the one with the tattoos is Max. Jason doesn't fuck up too much, as sometime after his third beer, they offer to hook him up with work. It would probably help him find out more about the dead kid, but Jason refuses. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. “Nah, I’ve got something lined up," he says. "But keep me in mind. The job market’s pretty shitty." 

It sounds like most of what they do is legal. They complain a little about their bosses. But Jason can't figure out which one they were talking about earlier. He's still a stranger, they aren't gonna be completely open. The conversation moves on after that and Jason can't bring it back round. He leaves with a couple of phone numbers and a standing invitation to join them. It's a weird night. He's had far worse and he wonders if these were the kind of guys he'd've been buddies with if his life had been different. Davids is kind of hot in his quiet way and Jason thinks he may've been feeling him out to see if Jason was interested. Not that he was going to do anything about it. Davids might have a conscience, but he's still a shitty person. 

The events of the night have taken his mind off Alfred and the possibility that Batman is already tracking him. More than that, he has his purpose: to find out what happened to the kid. He's in the right place to do it.

* * *

The next time Jason runs out of gas, it's a Tuesday and he tops up his tank at a gas station over the river in Burnside. He'd spent the last few days hitting dead end after dead end in his investigation. The kid killed was a four-year-old boy called Jeremiah Cole. His only family was his mom, Lindsay, who seemed to have led a blameless life. She worked as the housekeeper for the Richardsons and occasionally brought Jeremiah with her when her childcare failed, which is what happened on the night of the party. She was, unsurprisingly, devastated and Jason hadn't managed to talk to her, as she'd gone to stay with family in Iowa.

The autopsy report was horrific; the poor kid had horribly familiar injuries, consistent with being caught in an explosion. Jason had narrowly avoided throwing up after he'd read it. The kid had been trapped in the kitchen with an apparently faulty stove, which had exploded with the expected results.

Jason had also been looking into the Richardson family, the ones who'd held the party, but apart from standard rich-people shit there was nothing much there. Though he could see why Trent had said there was a cover up. According to the arson investigator, they'd pushed through an investigation very fast and there were conflicting reports from them and Lindsay Cole on whether the oven had been having problems for a while. She claimed it had been fine. He'd be astonished if the Richardsons had known it hadn't been working, if she hadn't. He needs to look further into their financial records to see if they'd paid anyone off. But it isn't his primary line of enquiry. 

His best bet is finding the mysterious boss but pinpointing who that even is has been hard. The four guys all worked for an agency who assigned them to different catering teams, in addition to their regular jobs, and there were dozens of people they could describe as 'the boss'. So far, he hasn't found any information about the catering company involved, which is his strongest lead. Jason isn't even a hundred percent certain that Jeremiah's death in the fire was the murder they were talking about. He hates not being certain of his target. It's frustrating he still hasn't been able to access the police report.

* * *

Jason picked Davids as the one most likely to inadvertently ID the boss for him, because he had trouble hiding his concern about the murder. He'd planted a tracker in Davids' jacket pocket when he'd last seen him, and has been following him on and off for days. Tonight is the first night in weeks that he goes out as Red Hood. The helmet is hooked up to his surveillance equipment and he thinks it's worth the risk as he doesn't expect to be out of the shadows. He follows Davids to a busy warehouse, where he's moving goods. Jason isn't familiar with the warehouse or its contents, but he realises how big his miscalculation is when he recognises some of the guards as part of a gang he used to control. He can only blame himself when he's spotted as he breaks in. It's unlucky, really. He manages to shake them as they give chase and ends up in a much more crowded neighbourhood near a parking lot, full of people coming and going. 

Jason spots an empty building that looks perfect to take refuge in to catch his breath and work out a plan. He climbs up to the roof and enters through an access hatch there. Three minutes later, he hears voices at the door and someone calling for Marco to fetch the keys, and a voice from a different direction telling the Red Hood that he's surrounded. He curses. Of course he ends up holed up above an auto shop belonging to the gang. He needs to get out stat. They’ve cornered him here and there’s no way he’d getting out easily. Sure he could shoot his way out, but he's trying to keep his body count down, and they'd know for sure Red Hood was back. He's tempted to drop the hood and sneak out into the crowd, but the uplink isn’t working, and he’s got so much surveillance data uploaded to it. For a second, he curses the wireless tech. In the first version, he’d’ve been able to plug it into his phone, but he just doesn’t have anything compatible on him tonight. Why didn’t he finish that upgrade?

There’s no way he can conceal the hood and keep his hands free without looking suspicious. The hood's similar enough to a motorbike helmet that he might manage that, but the colour is way too distinctive. He stares down into the shop below and spots a box of familiar looking paint canisters. There’s his solution. He can swipe one of those spray cans from here and disguise the helmet.

He picks up the black first but when he shakes it, he can tell it’s nearly empty. There’s a dark grey within reach and that’s much fuller. He tapes up the eye holes of his hood with the medical tape he always carries and plastic and gets to work. As soon as he's covered all the red, he sits down again and starts planning his exit.

The plan works. Jason manages to slip out and blend into the crowd of late-night revellers returning to their vehicles. At least he had some good luck tonight. He hacks into the surveillance footage of the area when he gets to a safehouse and they're still there searching for him. They give up eventually, and from the arguments that break out he can tell they're starting to doubt they even saw the Red Hood. He breathes a sigh of relief. The next day he upgrades all his equipment so a fuck up like that doesn't happen again. He quite likes the grey hood and he resprays it with better quality grey paint so he can use the hood for emergencies.

* * *

The next night, Jason narrowly misses Batman as he slips himself out of a window on the second floor of Gotham Central. Jason doesn't want to be there, but he's still investigating the possible murder, and the electronic trail of the fire at the party doesn't exist in the police records. He'd be suspicious, but he'd discovered that the GCPD records system has had some technical problems and they're back to paper records until it's fixed. He's hit a series of dead ends in his investigation and just needs a break. 

As soon as he'd broken in, he'd slipped into the filing office and removed the records. They were pretty easy to find, still in the to-be-filed pile as it was such a recent case. There wasn't much in the files about the fire; it had pretty much been dismissed as a tragic accident. That matched the records from the fire department he'd already seen. So, he'd taken the opportunity to look around. He'd poked his head into the main rooms -- there were a few familiar faces missing from the night shift and he'd wondered what had happened to them. He'd even thought about visiting Jim Gordon's office, to see what he's up to, but in the end he just left as quickly as he could.

Jason doesn’t even see which Batman it is arriving on the roof, he just sees the pointy ears and runs. The fucking bat signal wasn't even lit, so he wasn't as guarded as usual. Right now, he isn’t sure if it would be worse to see Bruce or Dick. He's halfway back to his apartment before his heartbeat calms. 

He's terrified of meeting Bruce again. There’s a part of him that wants to wipe the memories of that last message, the one that destroyed him, with the reality of Bruce. However harsh it might be. But he isn't Bruce's Jason anymore. Their meeting in Arkham when Bruce returned from the dead confirmed that Bruce knew that as much as he did. 

If it's just Dick... Jason isn't sure how he'd feel about seeing Dick. They've had such an up and down relationship since he's been back from the dead. It's strange to think that he's seen far more of Dick than Bruce, and he doesn't understand how that happened. They've even managed to work together on occasion. Although it never lasts long. He wonders what Dick would think about Jason's current plans. Whether he'd be happy or sad, or even care.

* * *

Jason isn't sure what day of the week it is when he next notices his gas is running low. He's been awake for at least 30 hours watching the hard-eyed man, whose full name is unfittingly, Trent Softly. He's running on empty in all possible ways and he still hasn't pinpointed a remotely likely boss. Jason pulls into the first gas station he sees after he notices the sorry state of fuel gauge. As he pays for his gas and the appalling excuse for coffee, he turns away and looks straight into Alfred's eyes. Part of Jason isn't even startled this time. He would curse his subconscious, if he wasn’t a little happy with it.

"Jason," Alfred says. His name is spoken softly, and Jason's usual panic doesn't set in.

"Alfred," he says, cool as a cucumber. Then he takes a steadying breath.

Alfred is stood near the door, holding his hands loosely by his sides, in an uncharacteristically open position. It’s probably the first time Jason has seen him in public without a suit jacket. It’s clearly an attempt to show that he hasn’t got weapons. Jason feels a little sick. Does Alfred really think Jason would hurt him? He doesn't want to think about what he might’ve done before if he'd seen Alfred at the wrong moment. He’s suddenly very glad he hasn’t seen much of him since he came back.

"It's good to see you, my dear boy," Alfred says, oh so carefully.

Jason nods. He can feel Alfred's gaze take him in, stopping at the stack of candy bars Jason had half placed in his pocket. It must be quite an effort for him not to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you here for breakfast?" Alfred asks, a faint smile quirking his mouth.

His inner fifteen-year-old wants to hide the candy bars. "Uh, yeah. Long night." This was a conversation they'd had many times when he'd been a kid.

Alfred smiles again. He steps aside as someone pushes past to get to the packaged doughnuts behind him, polite, as usual. It would be the perfect moment for Jason to leave. He could easily slip out, but he doesn't.

Alfred's surprise is obvious as he turns back to see Jason is still there. "Would you-" He watches Jason carefully. "Would you be interested in something a little more substantial to break your fast?"

Jason tenses. He isn't remotely ready for an invitation to the Manor. 

Alfred continues, "There's a little European cafe not too far away that does a surprisingly tasty Full English breakfast, I occasionally indulge on my free days. I believe their pancakes are also well received.” He looks up at Jason. “I would be delighted if you would join me."

"I - yeah. Ok."

"It's on Winnick and Eighth. Shall I meet you there in ten minutes?"

"Sure," Jason finds himself saying. It wasn’t really a commitment, right? He could just not turn up. But he is kind of curious about what Alfred would consider to be a tasty Full English breakfast.

* * *

They clearly know Alfred at the café. The waitress calls him Mr P, which boggles Jason a little, and she takes their orders without any fuss. She brings them a real teapot with Alfred's tea. 

"No pancakes?" Alfred teases, as Jason's food arrives. It's another Full English and looks twice as large as the one that came for Alfred. It's piled with fried eggs, British sausage, bacon and grilled tomatoes and more. It smells amazing and Jason hasn't eaten for hours and can't wait to get started. He digs into the food. 

"I spent some time in London. I got the taste for this when I was there," Jason says sometime later, taking another forkful of sausage and dipping it into his egg yolk. 

"Oh?" Alfred obviously wants to ask him what he'd been doing there, but Jason doesn't know where to start. He wishes he hadn't mentioned it.

"I'd always wanted to take you to London myself," Alfred says. "Did you get to enjoy the city while you were there? I know you always wanted to visit Westminster Abbey."

"Not really," Jason mumbles. He'd been so close to it and regrets the missed chance. "There were other things on my mind." 

Alfred looks at him with concern and Jason wonders what the expression on his face is like when Alfred says, "My dear boy, it's been a hard few years."

That's an understatement and he wonders what exactly Alfred means by that. Bruce's death? The demon brat's arrival? Jason's everything? Probably all of the above and every other awful thing that's happened in the world, knowing Alfred's habit of understatement.

Jason pushes the tomatoey-eggy mess on his plate around, and clenches the hand in his lap to calm himself. He avoids Alfred's eyes.

They sit in silence for a few moments. The friendly hubbub of the cafe around them is distraction enough and Jason can feel his tension ease. He senses someone coming up behind him, it's the waitress, quiet in her sneakers. She addresses Jason, "Would you like a refill of anything, hon?" 

He shakes his head. He's barely touched his coffee and he isn't sure he wants to prolong this. 

"And you, Mr P?" 

"Some more tea, I think. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a fresh cup of coffee, Jason? That one must be quite cold."

Jason catches Alfred's eye, and he somehow finds himself nodding in agreement. It was good coffee. Italian, he thinks. 

Alfred's quiet smile feels like a reward.

"So, what have you read lately?" Alfred asks, when the drinks arrive. They launch into a discussion of books, and the best places to find them in Gotham, then they move onto food. He thinks they're safe topics until Jason realises how much the range of cuisines he’s talking about would show of what he'd been doing over the last few years and shuts up.

Alfred looks sad at Jason’s third cut off comment. "Jason, I'm not here to dig into what you've been doing. I'm just happy you're talking to me."

A warmth spreads through Jason and he tries to suppress a smile. "Hey, Alfie, it's been weeks. Have you really been hanging around every Thursday morning waiting for me?"

"Well it worked," Alfred says, with an honest to goodness wink. And Jason can't stop his smile.

As he leaves, Alfred hands him a crisp white piece of card. “This is my current cell phone number. Please call me. It would be wonderful to do this again."

Jason won't use the number. He isn't quite ready for that. He does enter it into his cell phone and tucks the card away somewhere safe.

* * *

Jason is standing outside a bar in Old Gotham, not far from the Clocktower. He'd ended up following Espinoza and Trent to one of their jobs in a restaurant nearby. He'd watched them for an hour, but the on-site manager had been a frazzled but pleasant older woman, who they'd joked with as they set up, so he'd eliminated her as a possibility. Now Jason's here and at a loose end, he's wondering whether to contact Barbara. He thinks she's still based around here. He's a little buoyed up by the success of his encounter with Alfred. And Babs might be able to help with his investigation, and he knows she won't tell Bruce she's seen him and probably not Dick either. Jason has a cigarette in one hand, to give himself an excuse to be there. There are people around him, mostly an after work crowd chatting and drinking and blowing off steam after a long day.

He's idly watching the puddle that's forming where someone's dropped their beer bottle a few feet away. If no one moves he can see an almost perfect reflection of the streetlight. The perfection is ruined as a hand splashes into it. The hand is closely followed by the rest of the skinny male body attached to it. The hand flails ineffectually and Nightwing materialises out of the shadows of the alley, eskrima sticks ready.

Fuck! Jason keeps calm and doesn't run. He conceals himself behind all the other patrons of the bar, as they move away from Nightwing's vicinity. He's just about psyched himself up for Babs. He really wasn't expecting to see Dick tonight. 

Nightwing barely even looks at the bystanders, but Jason knows that doesn't mean he isn't paying attention. Nightwing grabs the man by the collar, lifts him up and removes a knife from his pocket, it's shining in the low light and Jason is willing to bet it's still wet with blood. He bags the knife, and then pats him down briskly, zip ties his wrists together and attaches him to a nearby lamppost. He admires Dick's efficiency. 

"Someone call the cops," Nightwing growls. And he disappears as quickly as he appeared, although now Jason is listening, he can hear the whirr of a grapple and can guess Dick's likely route. 

Jason lets out a soft breath. That was a close call. If Jason had been standing anywhere else, that close and Dick would've seen him and immediately recognised him. Jason isn't ready for that fight. It's good to know that Dick's back in the finger stripes. His surveillance hadn't been clear on that. Dick looks at ease, in a way he hadn't in the Batsuit. He wonders what happened to the man's victim -- if they'd lived. Maybe one of the brats was with them waiting for an ambulance. Dick always seemed to prefer working in a team.

He stubs out his cigarette and drops it into the makeshift ashtray and pulls his jacket around and leaves. He isn't gonna wait around for the cops and he won't come back here. It's possible Nightwing will run his mask footage later and they'll recognise Jason. He should probably avoid Barbara for now. He doesn't want to be noticed in the vicinity of a crime. And he knows she'd check. That was enough Bats for one night.

* * *

Jason's taken up the invitation of the guys from the bar to meet up a few times and he's got to know them pretty well. He's fallen into a role as their new drinking buddy and his phone is constantly blowing up with invitations to meet. It's strange how easy it is. Tonight, they're meeting up ostensibly because Max with the tattoos had a really bad date with his crush and wants a distraction. Jason suspects that Max is likely to get really drunk and it's an excellent opportunity to pump him for information. 

Jason grins as he sits down in the space made for him in the table. It’s as fake as hell, but they don’t realise that. He’s developed pretty great acting skills out of necessity, topped up by Alfred’s tutorials when he was Robin. He doesn’t much enjoy spending time with these assholes, but he has a job to do. Some of them are worse than others. He’d almost like Davids and the cheery one, Espinoza, if they hadn’t been complicit in murdering a kid. 

Espinoza waves over a waitress to take his usual order. When it arrives, Jason sips it slowly. They tease him about not drinking much, but he’s paid more than his share of the tab enough times that they don’t care.

The night goes pretty much as he expects. He tries to be subtle redirecting the conversation, but it isn't very successful. Eventually he gets a break when he gets them talking about their worst bosses. He describes Bruce in vague terms. "There was this guy I've trusted with my life, but when I really needed him to step up, he just didn't care enough." His bitterness is obvious. 

Luckily, they respond and mention that their worst boss owns a catering firm. 

"You don't see him much, but when he is there - you have to watch out because he seems normal, and then you discover he's scary unpredictable," Davids says. 

"Like not Joker or Two Face crazy," Espinoza adds. "But not the sort behaviour you'd expect from a guy who owns a high-class catering firm. If anyone gets in his way -- they're just gone." He mimes an explosion. "Boom." 

"He's got goals," Trent says, giving them a scornful look. "And he pays well." The "to keep quiet" is implied, and Davids glares back at him. Jason wonders if they're going to start to fight. He's hating Trent more and more every day.

Max interrupts, "The only good thing about working there, is its convenience for Pizza Heaven." He's clearly trying to lighten the mood, but the others don't laugh, and Max's smile isn't genuine.

Pizza Heaven is apparently pretty much the opposite side of Gotham from them now. If the really bad boss is the one who owns the catering firm in the Upper West Side, that narrows it down. Jason disguises his excitement about the lead as enthusiasm about pizza and they all end up in a nearby pizza joint, squabbling about toppings. 

On the way home, Jason spots Nightwing on patrol again. First, it is just a moving shadow overhead, where there shouldn't be one, and then he sees him silhouetted on a gargoyle. It's classic Nightwing, and Jason rolls his eyes as he avoids him, ducking into an alley with no line of sight from above. He’s been trying not to stick to a regular route through the city when he returns to his apartment, to keep out of the way of any patrolling Bat adjacent vigilantes. There are so many of them now, it's really hard work. He's been waiting for them to realise he's back and come and check on him. But so far, he's only had close calls with Bruce and Dick, and they haven't seen him. It's left him confused. It's hard to believe Alfred wouldn't say something.

* * *

Jason sees Alfred again two days later. His to-be-read pile is looking a little low and that won't do, so he goes into a tiny book store Alfred had mentioned when they met. He really doesn't expect to see a familiar balding head as he shuffles past the overflow of boxes littering the floor in the literary fiction section. Alfred is focussed on the book he's holding and drops it at Jason's quiet, "Hello," he drops it. 

"Good grief, Master Jason!" he exclaims, as he bends down to retrieve the book. 

Jason shifts the pile of books in his hands. "What are the chances?" he says airily. 

Alfred gives him a narrow-eyed look, but there's a faint smile on his lips. Jason thinks he suspects that the family surveillance habit is more responsible for this than the pure chance it actually is. 

"You said the coffee here is good and I wanted to try it," Jason explains. "Do you have time for a cup?" 

"With you, Master Jason, always." Alfred pays for his book and they make their way to the tiny coffee shop on the third floor. 

Alfred seems distracted, but he's happy to talk. He's having trouble with his new catering company for the fundraiser they're holding for at the Manor. But Jason engages him in a conversation about his garden and he relaxes a little. Jason really doesn't get it, but he loves Alfred's enthusiasm and it means he doesn't have to say anything about what he's been doing.

Alfred's cell phone rings. He sighs and looks apologetically at Jason. "It's appallingly rude of me to answer this, but it'll cause more problems if I don't."

Jason grins, "Go ahead." 

Alfred answers the call. "Yes, Ms. Hazelwood-Jones, what seems to be the problem?" Alfred listens for a minute and sighs. 

When he finishes the call, he shuts his eyes and huffs. "It may be for a terribly good cause, the orphans of Bludhaven," he explains. "But the organisation has been shocking. Absolutely shocking. And the theme. Heroes and villains. At least the children will enjoy it, but the amount of security we'll need with so many masks. Bruce at least put his foot down about Gotham villains." 

Jason rolls his eyes. "No offence, Alfie, but that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"It truly is. At least I'm not alone in managing it. We have a rather full house, Master Dick and Master Tim are both there. We'd just need Miss Cassandra to return and we'd all be in Gotham.” Alfred smiles at Jason making it clear he's included in that statement. "I'm unaccustomed to that these days." Alfred puts the phone in his inner pocket. "Now that's enough of that," he says firmly. "Have you read anything good since I last saw you?" 

They talk for an hour and only stop when Alfred checks the time and realises that he needs to pick up Damian. Jason pays while Alfred is distracted gathering his things. Alfred shakes his head when he notices. "Really, Master Jason, there's no need for that."

They say their goodbyes, and Alfred hesitates, his hand gripping Jason's in a firm shake. "I haven't mentioned meeting you to Master Bruce."

"I'm sure he knows," Jason says, without hiding the bite.

"I'm not so sure. He doesn't pay a lot of attention to my activities unless they're particularly unusual, and I thought you'd rather keep this private."

Jason feels a warm glow. He didn't know Alfred had his back. It's a good note to leave on.

* * *

The investigation is still a complete pain, but Jason finally discovers where the office for the catering firm holds its records. He breaks in early one morning and copies as much data as he can find on their activities. Most of the information they hold is on a single desktop computer that isn't even networked. Jason would assume it was for security reasons, but it's so sloppily protected he thinks someone is just technologically incompetent. He isn't surprised to find that half their documentation is handwritten. He sighs. No wonder he's been having trouble with this. Nothing to do with this case has been digital. He's going to have to go old school. He copies as much of the paperwork as he can and puts in a tap on the phone line and heads home. He's got a lot of work to do.

This all seems pretty amateur, but a glance through the finances and he can already find a few leads that might go further. Somehow they've done jobs for most of the big names in Gotham, both clean and dirty. He looks at the client list and the Richardsons, the family who'd had the fire, appear, as well as a publishing firm who'd recently had a major theft during a book launch Alfred had attended. One of the other names, Hazelwood-Jones, seems familiar and he can't immediately place it until he realises it's the name of the woman Alfred had the frustrating phone call with. What are the chances?

It isn't until he comes across the list of upcoming events and sees Wayne Manor on the list, that Jason panics. They must've been using have been using catering companies to infiltrate the houses. He doesn't care about the Manor, or about Bruce or the others, but this guy goes for people who get in his way, and if Alfred gets hurt… Jason doesn't want to think about it. They've just reconnected.

He could just pick up the phone but there's no guarantee that Alfred will believe him. The evidence is so flimsy. Just an overheard conversation and a lot of assumptions. However confident he is about those assumptions. If Alfred does believe him, he'll certainly tell the others, things will get messy and they'll get so distracted chasing Jason, that they won't go after the real problems. He knows how they work. There's no chance they'll trust him now.

There's something about this case that just doesn't add up. Jason doesn't have a clue what the crime being covered up even is. He has to get some idea of what it is, or he won't be able to stop them. He spends the rest of the night cross referencing data. Jason has pretty much gathered data about every catering firm in Gotham. He looks at the number of incidents where the police were called or there was an evacuation during their events, and the firm he's investigating doesn't come out much higher than the average. They are clearly doing something, but what? He'd originally assumed theft, but nothing's been reported. Presumably they aren't hitting every event they work, but he can't risk it. Wayne Manor is the perfect target for so many things. Kidnapping, theft, gathering evidence for blackmail, it could be anything.

He'll have to infiltrate the party himself. It's too late to tell his new "friends" he wants in on the job, so he'll have to go in some other way. Part of Jason is freaking out. He still can't figure out who the murderous boss is, just that he's unstable as hell and everyone is so terrified of him, they won't even mention his name. That could be many people in Gotham, he suspects it's a new player, but there's this horrible feeling that it might be one of the Gotham villains. At least he knows from Espinoza that it won't be Two Face or his worst case, Joker. He's just found Alfred again and he can't stomach the idea that the one person he's truly connected with could be harmed. That he might lose him again. 

He looks up Ms. Hazelwood-Jones and discovers she's one half of Hazelwood-Jones and Ramsamy, an event planning team. He gets his first easy break when their records are hackable and finds a list of the guests attending the benefit at Wayne Manor. As it's going to be a Masked Ball, he identifies a couple of possible guests he can impersonate, and hopes they're planning to wear costumes that cover their faces. Jason has so many advantages here, this should be easy. He knows the Manor and the way parties there work, and he's got the schedule as well. He tries not to think how much he doesn't want to go back there, and how hard it will be to keep out of the way of Bruce or any of the others.


	2. Part 2 - Dick and Jason

Jason has only approached Wayne Manor by the main drive to a handful of times since his death. This is the first time that he'll actually be entering the house. He knows that there are multiple stages of security for the Heroes and Villains party, because so many guests will be masked, and his only option was to arrive using the car service booked by the man he's impersonating. Luckily he'd stashed one of his bikes near the edge of the property so he can make a quick escape if necessary. Sitting a car driven by a stranger makes him antsy enough, and the additional perspective from the back seat reminds Jason too much of trips up this drive with Alfred. He shouldn't still feel like he's going home. He needs to focus on why he's here, not on pointless reminiscing. 

He's extremely early for the party so he can bug the Manor, before the party really gets going. It'll give him the opportunity to gather as much evidence as he can, and he can't be everywhere. He deliberately times his arrival to be at the same time as the arrival of the elderly guests who liked to make sure they got a good seat to observe all the best gossip. Jason adjusts his mask to ensure that it's in place and exits the car. The first thing he does is help a vaguely familiar elderly lady up the stairs and charms her with his best manners. In return she tells him to call her Charlotte. He'd hoped to get swept up in the general flood of arrivals, but 'Call me Charlotte's' presence during the security checks and interference in the process distracts the security just enough to blur the differences between him and the guest he'd impersonated. It couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it. 

"You don't need to worry about all that security nonsense," she tells the security guard, who is trying to follow his instructions. "He's clearly a good boy, did you see how he helped a frail old lady like me up those stairs?" 

He'd arranged for the man he's impersonating to wake up in a hotel room on the other side of the city with a very well stocked bar, and a phone that was telling him it was still the day before. By now Jason suspects he is very, very drunk. Jason is wearing his terrible costume which covers every inch of him, and will act as an excellent disguise. 

The sight and smell of the reception hall makes him have to stifle the feeling that he's home. The chandelier is brightly lit despite the early evening light streaming through the windows. On the left there's the cushioned window seat he often used to read in, so he could catch the first glimpse of Bruce coming up the driveway after work. Why is he here? He'd sworn that he'd never set foot in here again, and here he is coming to the rescue. He can't let these dirtbags get the best of Alfred and all the party guests. He's glad his face is hidden, because for once everything he feels must be clearly visible in his expression. He pulls his focus back to his job. He has to plant his bugs and sweep the whole area before too many people arrive. 

The benefit is following the typical plan he remembers for parties at Wayne Manor, which isolates guests in specific areas at different times. They start in the reception space and cloakroom, then they open up a space for drinks and canapes, probably somewhere with interesting art, while the catering staff prepare the dining area. Later all the public areas are opened up, including the library, and the main action moves to the ballroom. Jason never quite worked out whether it was to give Alfred and his team time to prepare, or if it just made people feel that they got a chance to explore the very famous Wayne Manor. They'd open some of the terrace, and even the gardens if the weather was good enough. 

Jason helps the old lady to a good seat. She's rather sweet and he promises to return with a drink, and heads out into the stream of guests trickling into the party. He plants three bugs before he returns to her. His next step is to plan his route to the closed rooms. He wants to avoid as many security cameras as he can, and he greets complete strangers and compliments costumes as an excuse to stop and place himself in as many blind spots as possible. 

It's odd to be here as an adult and as a stranger. He thinks of all the places he hid in during parties, and the even better ones Dick had later shown him. He bugs the catering kitchen by stumbling in pretending to be drunk, and then uses a concealed corridor to slip into the room where the buffet table is set up. It'll make the perfect site for some of his bugs, as almost everyone at the party will drop by it at some point. Jason goes to pick up one of the flower arrangements, and then slowly withdraws his hand. What's that attached to it? He leans forward and peers at it in the low light and curses under his breath. It's definitely some kind of bomb. He surveys the table and his heart skips. There are six of them scattered at intervals, and very well concealed. With that much explosive, they'll take out everyone in the room. He tries not to think about Alfred passing by and as he did habitually, adjusting a wonky flower arrangement and setting this off. 

Fuck. The Manor _was_ a target. He checks his watch. He has just over twenty minutes to deal with this before someone comes in with the hot food. If he keeps his back between the security camera and what he's doing, he should be able to pass as one of the staff adjusting things. He inspects the bombs closely. They're professionally set up and this isn't going to be a quick task. If he removes them, he'll never find out anything, but they can't go off at full strength. He activates the surveillance feed in his ear, and then manages to jam the door shut, to give him enough time in private to sabotage the bombs. He'll need all of his focus for this. He knows he's good at explosives and he's glad there is something he can do about this. Is the goal to kill people? Or is that just an added bonus? From the pattern at the other event, he'd been assuming that the explosions were distractions for something else. He should know better than to assume anything.

Jason manages to replace the last charge and unjam the door with seconds to spare before someone tries to enter the room. He heads back into the party, willing his heart rate to calm down. He did it. He finds a wall near the main staircase and leans against it, surveying the room as if he hasn't a care in the world. There is a slight buzz in his ear and then Jason hears an irritatingly familiar voice over the comm. "What on earth was Bruce thinking?"

At least the voice recognition software is working, but that wasn't a voice he was hoping to hear. The owner of the voice, however, sounds pissed, which is some consolation.

Jason hears a rapidly choked off laugh in response. Probably Dick, none of the others laugh quite as easily.

Then the original voice continues. "A Heroes and Villains party. In Gotham. That’s just asking for trouble."

"You're just sulking because of the costume." It's a deeper voice. Yes, definitely Dick. What is Drake wearing? If he sounds this annoyed about it, it must be bad.

"If Conner ever hears about this…"

Jason tries to locate them; he hadn’t had time to program the bugs to pinpoint the area of activation, but there aren’t too many places that they’ll be. He’d only been able to bug a few of the public rooms since his arrival, but there are already too many people in the way.

"Hey, hey." Jason pictures Dick holding out his hands in protest. Dick had used that gesture often enough when talking to him. "It wasn't my idea." But Dick sounds amused.

"Well if you hadn't decided to show the world what a huge fanboy you are, I doubt that Alfred would’ve even thought of it."

Dick laughs. “I don’t know, it seems very appropriate. We all heard about those posters in Hong Kong, Mr 'Wayne Enterprises' Superboy'.”

Drake makes a wordless sound of rage and then the two of them fall silent for a few minutes. 

What’s that about? Jason will have to look it up, but now he has a pretty good idea of what they are wearing. He still can’t see them; he’s circled all the open rooms on the ground floor now so they must be on the balcony. Dammit. He won’t be able to get up there without being spotted. Jason resigns himself to a major change of plan until he remembers that he’s wearing a full face mask

"Are you over your sulk now?" There is a pointed silence from Drake, and then Dick asks, "Have you seen Bruce anywhere?” It's a deliberate subject change. “He wouldn't tell me what he was wearing."

"Nope. I just got back. The first I knew about the party was when Alfred handed me this and told me to get changed." Drake sounds relaxed again.

"I'd better do my hostly duty then." Dick sounds wry. "You know, someone described me as Gotham's Paris Hilton the other day. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved that the act was working so well."

Drake snorts with laughter at that. Jason knows that Dick only said that to make him feel better after all the teasing. Dickie really does the perfect big brother thing well when he wants to. Jason isn't jealous at all. Dick's probably ruffling Drake's hair now, just like he used to on the rare occasions he was with Jason at a party like this. Jason is left with an image of Dick in a short pink dress and blonde wig. Jason is startled by the heat that runs through him at the thought of Dick's naked legs. He has a feeling Dick could pull it off better than the real thing.

Jason picks up a drink from a passing waiter and is about to drink it when he remembers the full face mask. He isn't sure why it’s so hard to remember. The cloth sticks to his lips with every breath and he never makes that mistake with the Red Hood helmet. _Stupid._ Instead he slams it down on the first flat surface he sees, gaining some satisfaction from the mark that it’s sure to leave, until he pictures Alfred’s disappointed face.

* * *

Dick feels as if this party has already been going on for hours, although it's barely been one. He only agreed to come because it's for a cause he cares for. There are far too many orphans from Bludhaven, the city might never fully recover from Chemo's toxic waste, and anything that helps them can only be good. He'll have to make sure he chats with the kids that are here tonight; he can imagine how out of place they must feel, surrounded by the opulence of a high society party. It was also good to catch up with Tim, who's just headed off to find Tam Fox after receiving a text. Dick wishes he could hang out with Tim more often. He leans over the balustrade and looks down at the people milling about below. The mass of costumes isn't an unfamiliar sight, but the people filling them aren't the usual ones. He winces as he spots a Joker costume. Thankfully Babs had refused to attend when she heard the theme of the party. They'd specified no Gotham villains, but people always break the rules. As a precaution Alfred and Bruce had insisted on extra tight security, so it’s unlikely that large numbers of the actual costumed crazies and their henchmen would get in. At least he hopes so.

Alfred sweeps past him with a tray and Dick grabs a glass that he knows will be filled with fizzy water and makes his way farther into the crowd of people. He chats to a few people; the lack of a mask means that he’s easily recognised.

Dick tenses when he catches a very familiar orange and blue costume in on the landing opposite from the corner of his eye. But a swift inspection reveals that the man definitely isn't tall enough to be the real Slade Wilson. Plus the costume is really badly made with some odd features. The mail appears to consist mostly of sequins and in addition it clearly isn't a custom tailored as Dick really appreciates the way it clings desperately to the man's muscular thighs.

As he circles the party, Dick bumps into Damian, and he feels his heart swell. Damian's wearing a miniature Nightwing costume and his customary fierce scowl, as he escapes from some guests who obviously think he looks adorable. Dick agrees. He isn't sure he's ever seen Damian in blue before. 

"I thought we said no Gotham superheroes?" he teases.

“He’s based in Bludhaven," Damian says, with a glance at the guests nearby and huffs. His scowl gets fiercer, if that's possible. “It counts.”

“Yeah, on a technicality and he-” Dick blinks and shakes his head. He continues in a low voice, “I was in Gotham first.”

Damian makes that odd clicking noise of his.

"Well, you look ador-, uh, very tough, mini-me," Dick says, changing tack mid-sentence, the suppressed laughter clear in his voice. 

"Have you seen Father?" Damian asks. "At breakfast he said wanted to introduce me to some people tonight." He doesn't seem pleased at the prospect. 

"Nope, sorry. Any idea what costume he's supposed to be in? I may have seen him earlier and not realised."

Damian shrugs. "He did not share his plans with me." 

"I'll snag Alfred and ask. Hang on in there, Damian. You'll be able to escape soon." 

Alfred seems distracted when Dick eventually finds him to ask. He explains that he's just heard that Bruce has been unavoidably detained by overseas business, which Dick takes to mean is something Batman Inc related. 

Dick sighs. "I guess I'm officially the host then." He makes a face. He was hoping he could relax a little and have some fun. Maybe meet some new people.

"You'll do splendidly, Master Dick," Alfred says. "You can still have a little fun. And please make the most of that costume. Master Bruce's Grey Ghost costume was clearly an unnecessary effort on my part." 

"Will do!" Dick says jauntily and winks at Alfred. "Hey, maybe you could convince him to bring it out at Halloween."

Dick heads off to tell Damian the good news. He also wants to see if he can find Fakestroke again. He's intrigued by those thighs. But he just catches frustrating glimpses of orange and can't seem to catch the man.

* * *

Jason doesn't see Dick or Drake for the next hour or so. He's heard them a few times as they've chatted with guests, but it's all been inconsequential small talk. Dick's conversations are heavy on the flirtation. He's playing the socialite pretty boy to the max, but Jason supposes that it isn't too different from his normal self. He's been careful to avoid them. Any flashes of blue or black in the corner of his eye resulted in immediate avoidance tactics. His focus has been checking the public areas thoroughly to see if there are any more explosives and to plant a few more bugs. Thankfully he's drawn a blank and he's been almost everywhere. He's even managed a little socialising of his own. It wouldn't do to wreck his cover this early in the evening.

Most of the costumes are extremely tasteless, despite their obvious expense. Jason mostly finds it funny, but he can't help himself from freezing when he comes across the lone idiot dressed as the Joker. He trips him up the next time he sees him, and the man hits the floor hard, filling Jason with satisfaction he knows is petty. He pretends to apologise of course, because that is what the man who's supposed to be inside this costume would probably do. He supposes that he can't really talk because turning up resembling Deathstroke at a benefit for Bludhaven refugees isn't great, but he wasn't the one to choose the costume. He rather hopes it will make Dick avoid him.

The undercover stuff really isn't his thing.

No one dressed as the Red Hood but despite all his efforts he probably isn't well known enough to these people. There are surprisingly few Batmans (Batmen?) and several Robins, who were mostly female. He wonders idly if Bruce had come as Batman or would that be too on the nose? This new public connection to Batman is giving Jason a headache. 

As soon as Jason finds himself in the same room, it's easy to spot Dick. His guess had been right, big brother was in skin tight lycra and was sporting the big red S. Jason had to say that he did carry it off well. Far better than most of the other guests at the party did with their costumes. Dick certainly filled out the costume better than Jason had remembered, admittedly those memories involved photos of Dick in a Superman costume at Halloween when he was a kid. Jason had been horrified when Alfred had given him an old pair of Dick's Superman pjs on his first night at Wayne Manor. Superman was cool but wearing Superman pjs at the age of thirteen was not. Jason had always slept in regular pyjamas or old band t-shirts whenever he could get away with it.

Close up the Superman costume looked even better. Then Jason curses under his breath when he sees where Dick is headed. He thought he'd have more time, and his modifications to the bombs will be for nothing if Dick is too close to the table and spots anything out of place.

* * *

Dick manages to wrap up his conversation with a bright smile and an excuse about doing his hostly duty, and heads down to the room where the buffet table is. He's feeling a little hungry as he missed lunch while he was sleeping.

"Richard! It's lovely to see you." Dick turns as the sound of a familiar voice. It is Mrs D., a very old friend of the family, who always turns up at these events. She's sitting near the buffet table and he can tell that she has an excellent view of the room as always. He doesn't recognise her costume, but she looks very dignified.

He bends down and kisses her cheek. "You're looking as beautiful as ever."

She swats at his hand. A minute later the man in the Deathstroke costume appears and hands her a drink with a flourish. "Here you go Mrs. D. Just what you wanted."

"Richard, I want to introduce you to this lovely boy, Pete." He helped me up those terrible stairs outside and he's been so helpful. I was having such difficulties.” She pats Fakestroke's, no Pete's hand. "Reminds me of my grandson."

Dick shakes hands. Pete's grip is strong and a little challenging and he holds on for a fraction of a second too long. 

"Pleased to meet you, Richard, was it?"

"Dick, usually." He smiles, putting all his interest into his expression. He wishes he could see Pete's reaction behind the mask. 

“You boys should go and find something to eat," Mrs D. interrupts. "Boys are always hungry and Richard, you could do with some meat on your bones.”

Dick hears Pete choke back a laugh at that. But Dick's used to it. She has never thought that Bruce fed him properly. "Will you be alright on your own, Mrs. D?"

“I'll be fine, dear. Lily, over there can help me out.” She waves airily at a woman in what Dick thinks is supposed to be a Liberty Bell costume.

Dick might not be able to see this Pete's eyes behind the mask, but he knows when someone is checking him out. Out of Mrs D's sight, he moves a little closer than is appropriate, and he's pleased when Pete doesn't move back. Close up he smells really good, kind of lemony, maybe bergamot? 

"Do you actually want to get something to eat?" Pete asks.

"Not really," Dick lies. Getting to know this guy is far more interesting than filling his empty stomach. "But I have to ask, who is your costume supposed to be?" 

Pete laughs. "I honestly don't know. A friend picked it out for me. I think he said it was Deathshot or something?" He shrugs as if he couldn't care one bit. "He thought the sequins were hilarious, and I don't really follow the doings of the caped types, unless they hold up my office, you know." 

Dick snorts. Close up the costume is rather unfortunate mashup of Deadshot's and Deathstroke's. What he'd taken for eyepatch is more like Lawton's scope. "Well they're hard to miss here in Gotham. Are you from here?" 

"Just moved here," he replies, "but I'm enjoying the sights so far." He toasts Dick. 

Dick runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "I'm sure we can find some incentive for you to stay."

* * *

Jason know he still needs to get Dick away from the bombs, so he moves away from the buffet table as they chat. He tries to be subtle as his heads towards a dark corner, where the light is obscured by the presence of a large display cabinet full of porcelain. Dick follows him as he'd hoped. He really can't let him get too close to the buffet table, and Dick is willing to be distracted.

As Jason rolls up the mask to take a sip of his drink. Dick reaches out and touches his lower lip. “It’s a shame to hide a mouth like that.”

He’s never seen Dick flirt like this, and he’s obviously never been on the receiving end of it and he tries not to go blank in the face of that smile focussed on him. Jason's doing this for a reason. For Alfred. He knows Dick would never flirt like this if he knew who he was. Jason isn't the panicking sort, he's pretty cool and plans ahead and he knows there isn't anything he can do. If Dick notices what's been done, he'll make a fuss, and right now Alfred is probably surrounded the people working with whoever set up the bombs. He'd be the perfect first choice as a hostage. Jason can't risk that. 

He keeps the mask rolled up as he lowers his drink. "Yeah? You like it?" He bites his lip and then leans forward and gives into the terrible impulse that's been building all evening and kisses Dick. It's just a quick kiss and mostly gets the side of Dick's mouth. Despite that, it feels right, and he isn't expecting the kiss to be so good. Dick pulls him square after their first awkward attempt. And that kiss is even better. It deepens, and Jason makes an abortive motion to tug Dick closer.

Dick breaks the kiss and slips his hand down Jason's arm until he is holding Jason's hand. Dick's hand is a little smaller than Jason's, but he can feel the callouses and strength of his fingers. Dick uses the grasp to lead him through a couple of rooms to a concealed closet that usually holds the large tables set up tonight. Jason follows, pretending that he doesn’t know where he's going. It's an excellent spot for some privacy. Dick doesn’t turn on the light, but that’s for the best. Jason takes over and backs Dick against the wall as soon as the door closes behind them. 

This is such a bad idea. Why would he kiss him? He’d always known Dick was hot. It was an inescapable fact like the sun being warm or the night being dark, but he’d never really thought of him like this before. Not someone who would touch him and flirt with him. The feel of Dick’s mouth on his is as good as it was a few minutes ago. Jason feels himself relax into the touch and leans his body against Dick, legs spread wide.

"God your thighs," Dick sighs against his mouth. "I've been following them around this party all night." He can feel Dick's hands on his cheeks, thumbing at the edges of the stupid scratchy mask. "Can I take this off, babe?"

And Jason wants that to happen so much, but he's saved from that disaster by a muted explosion crash of what sounds like a ton of glassware nearby. It's followed by shrieks and raised voices. Neither of them flinches, but he leans back in Dick's arms.

"Ugh. Rain check?" Dick says. "My darned father didn't turn up and I'm supposed to be the host at this thing, and I should check it out."

Jason nods. "Sure." It's so tempting to persuade him to stay. He hasn't felt like this in forever. But the explosion is why he's here. It's his cue to investigate and to check on Alfred.

Dick leaves with a last stroke to Jason's quads, it seems like a promise. "Catch you later."

It's a real pity Jason won't be able to let him keep that promise. He's been distracted enough. 

He heads back into the party, and once he's heard Alfred's calm voice over his bugs, he relaxes and starts to watch the reactions. Drake seems to be managing people and it isn't as chaotic as he'd anticipated. There aren't any security alarms going off in the Manor, or any major panic or injuries. More pertinent to his investigation, no one seems particularly disappointed, or is acting suspiciously. He doesn't think he's missed any major areas in his surveillance. He heads towards the kitchens, where he knows there are people connected to the explosions. There's a bit of uproar there, but Alfred has taken charge and is engaged in restoring some kind of order. He really is safe, but Jason tucks himself into a corner and sticks around just in case. He takes note of the behaviour of everyone there and hopes he'll be able to match it with his surveillance records when he returns home. There are a lot of people at loose ends looking nervous, but that could equally be related to the destruction of the food they'd created or having nothing to do.

It's already late and it's only an hour or two later before the party packs up. Once he's sure Alfred's safe, he leaves. On his way out he sees Dick directing guests to their cars. He's looking a little dejected. Jason hopes it's because of him.

* * *

Dick joins Damian in the Cave when he and Tim have finished checking the security of the Manor. They managed to avoid having to call the police by some quick thinking on Tim’s part, cordoning off the area and ushering the guests into different rooms. He’d been near to the table where the charges had gone off and had pulled it off as part of the entertainment, to create the right atmosphere for the party. Dick’s stunned that they swallowed it, but this is Gotham and Bruce has conditioned them to expect odd behaviour from Waynes. He suspects that Tim somehow blamed it on Damian, but that’s Bruce’s problem. Dick fucked up far too much when he got in between the two of them. He’s still broken about the loss of Tim’s full trust but can only blame himself.

He leans over Damian’s shoulder and peers at the screen of the Bat computer. Damian’s pulled up security footage from the whole house on one screen and the other has angles around the table with the exploding decorations. He’s frowning at it, moving from camera to camera, trying to piece together something.

“There goes Alfred’s favourite punch bowl”. Dick points to a mess of shattered glass and pinkish liquid.

“-Tt-,” Damian says. “It isn’t even an original.”

“Hang on a sec, that’s odd.” Dick pauses the footage. “It doesn’t make as much of a mess as I’d expect. I suppose Tim will be down with the remains of the charges soon. I want to analyse them.”

He grabs the mouse and slows down the footage of the explosion from the camera that was aimed at the front of the table. “Look, the explosion only goes inwards, the glass and liquid spatter barely pass the edge of the table. I bet when we look at it, most of the debris on the floor will be due to people dropping glasses and not the explosions."

“Do you believe it is deliberate?” Damian asks.

“Mm,” Dick says, pulling up more footage. An idea is percolating in his mind and he wonders if this was a distraction for something else.

Alfred arrives shortly after. “Time for bed, Master Damian," he says firmly. When Damian protests, he reminds him that, “You are expecting a visit from young Colin, early tomorrow. He’ll be nervous if you aren’t awake to come and fetch him with me in the car.”

Damian scowl/pouts at that. But he hops off the chair and follows Alfred to the stairs. Dick still isn’t entirely sure how the kids even met, but Colin has been good for Damian, it’s great to see him with a friend his age.

“Don’t stay up too late, Master Dick,” Alfred admonishes him over his shoulder. “I suspect your blood alcohol count is a little too high to carry out efficient analysis.”

Dick waves him off. “Sure, Alfie. I won’t be long.”

Forensic images start appearing in a corner of the screen, which are shortly followed by Tim, who is holding a tray full of the spent charges.

“Hey, come and look at these,” Tim calls, as he places the tray next to the analysis bench. “There’s something weird about them.”

Dick picks up some gloves and lifts one of the charges. “That tape, it looks like something was removed. I’d expect an explosion much larger than the ones we saw from something this size.” He peers at the charge. “I’m starting to wonder if someone tampered with them. Like someone set up something big that would’ve hurt people and then someone else came in the modified them.”

“But why didn’t they remove them all together?” Tim asks.

Dick shrugs. “Look we’ve done about as much as we can tonight. We can go over the security footage in the morning.” He yawns. "Ugh, I was looking forward to a night off. There was a hot guy at the party, and he left before I could get his name." He scratches absently at his neck. It's a bit tender.

Dick sees Tim's eyes narrow, and then crinkle as he grins. "Huh, I wondered where the beard burn came from."

Dick refuses to blush. 

“Anyway, you'll be on your own. I’m supposed to be at Titans Tower in the morning.” Tim tugs at the Superboy T-shirt he’s still wearing. “I won’t hear the end of the teasing. This is already all over social media.”

* * *

Dick wakes in the morning in his bed in the Manor from very pleasant dream. It involved the hot mystery guy from the party in his bed, just as he'd hoped would happen. He wishes he'd got a name, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out who he is. The guest list was pretty strict, and he can multitask when he looks for the saboteurs. He feels unusually awake, and very hungry.

There is no response from either Tim or Damian’s rooms when he knocks, and when Dick wanders into the kitchen, it’s empty. He can’t even smell coffee, so Tim must’ve left hours ago to head to San Francisco. It’s amazing he woke up that early. The absence of Alfred and Damian is much less surprising. They were due to leave about two hours ago to fetch Colin, which usually involves some sort of detour, so Damian can introduce Colin to some new part of Gotham. Dick brews a pot of coffee and warms some of the rolls Alfred’s left under a dish towel on the counter, and spreads them liberally with his homemade raspberry jelly, to take them down to the cave. He’ll bypass the cereal every time for some of Alfred's bread. Plus, the fact cereal has been banned in the cave since the unfortunate time he spilt milk on Bruce’s favourite ergonomic keyboard and forgot to mention it to Alfred until too late. It took forever to the smell out of the flooring where it had overflowed. 

He pulls up the surveillance footage again, with the aim of figuring out who might’ve planted the explosives. There’s just a sea of caterers in and out of the room all afternoon and they are pretty much all fiddling around with the settings. Although no one really touches the flowers. The only person he can rule out is Alfred. He sighs. He moves to the footage of the entrance, to see if he can find out more about his makeout partner. They should’ve captured the face of every guest, on camera as they arrived. He verifies that Pete arrived at the same time as Mrs D., but not with her and then curses as she distracts him as he’s going through security and the only image of his unmasked face is blurred. There are at least three Peters of the right age on the guest list, but he isn’t any of them. He must be someone’s plus one and there’s much less information on them.

Dick sets up the search running and then follows Pete through the party and curses when he ducks into the buffet room. He cross references it with the footage of that room, and he doesn’t see him, not even those distinctive sequins. He must’ve taken off the mask and hidden his costume before he got to the cameras. There don't seem to be any gaps in the footage.

Dick sees a lot of things he didn’t intend to see. He clearly wasn’t the only one getting lucky at the party. He’s a little mortified when he sees Kate Spencer make a pass at Jim Gordon, who was there briefly. Clearly Dick isn't her type. 

Then he sees Pete on his own in a room. He’s pulled up the mask to take a drink of water and then lifts it off completely for a moment so he can wipe his sweaty face. When his face is revealed Dick drops his mostly cold coffee. It bounces off the keyboard in front of him and hits the floor with a thud. Luckily, it’s in an insulated mug and barely any spills out. 

He’s Jason. Jason Todd.

He mops up the spill mostly to give him a moment to collect himself. He kissed Jason. He’s been daydreaming about Jason’s mouth and thighs for days. Christ. He had no idea Jason was even back in Gotham.

He turns back to the screen. Yes, that is definitely Jason. 

Jason was probably distracting him. Although Dick was the one who initiated and hit on him so hard. He wonders what Jason was thinking and why he let Dick do that. He seemed enthusiastic, but they were both trained by Bruce and it’s possible he could fake just about anything. Sure, he hasn’t seen much of Jason’s acting skills since he’d come back. But then he hadn’t suspected a thing while he had his tongue down his throat. 

Dick puts his head in his hands. 

He feels like an idiot but pulls up as much footage of his interaction with Jason as he can find. There isn't much, they’d both done a far too good job of hiding from the cameras. It's something Dick does instinctively now. One awkward lecture from Bruce after his make out session with Babs was caught on camera, had been enough. 

He almost forgets the main reason he’s looking at this footage. What was Jason doing there? He takes another look at the footage in the buffet room and eventually spots someone who might be Jason from his distinctive thighs. He's in the room on his own and then there is a barely perceptible freeze in the footage until he leaves. It's been tampered with. It’s becoming clear that he sabotaged whatever the explosives were. He had the access, opportunity and the skills. But Dick doesn’t know if he made them more destructive or less. But if Jason sabotaged the explosives, that means someone else was involved in planting them and there's nothing in the footage to suggest who it is. They must've come in with the table decorations.

Should he just ask Jason? Would that go down well? He’s feeling somewhat mortified by the whole thing. 

It's hard to believe it was Jason, the guy had been almost sweet with him.

Dick spends the rest of the day looking into the events at the party and trying to find out more about Jason. He hadn't heard anything about the Red Hood being back in town. He'd always liked to make it himself known. Has he only just arrived? He tries to access Bruce's most recent files on Jason's movements -- he always liked to keep track of him -- but they're locked. Dick doesn't know what to make of it. He'll have a chat with Babs tomorrow and see what she knows.

The chat never happens. That night the Bat signal goes up and he ends up being drawn in to help Batgirl investigate a string of horrific murders that’s accelerating by the hour, and Jason and the explosives get put on the backburner.

* * *

Jason throws himself down on his couch when he returns to his apartment from the benefit and covers his face with the crook of his arm Why did he do that? He could've just stuck to flirting, that would've been enough to distract Dick. But no, he had to take it one step further and act on a juvenile crush he thought he was long over. He almost feels as if his lips are still tingling from the kiss, and he already misses the touch of Dick's hands on his body. He's in his twenties now, not a teenage virgin. Is he joining the completely non-exclusive "Everyone loves Dick" club?

He lies there for a few minutes, just staring into space and remembering, before the prickling of the sequins on the parts of the costume he's still wearing under his jacket get too much and he stands up and gets changed. He isn't sure what he's going to do with the costume. He supposes he should return it. 

He should probably check the recordings from his bugs before he goes to bed. His surveillance equipment is set up in a hidden basement of the apartment, and it's cold down there so he grabs an extra hoodie before he climbs down. He has hours of recordings, and he inputs some new filter parameters before running the analysis again. While he's waiting, he listens to the recordings made during the explosion. Nothing useful comes up, and he throws his headphones away in frustration. This fucking case. Maybe he should dig more deeply into the Richardsons and see if they really were covering something up that might be related to the fire.

The analysis won't finish for a few hours, so he goes to bed. He absolutely doesn't think about Dick Grayson as he tries to fall asleep. 

The next morning, he checks the results of the analysis before he does anything else. There were some very interesting conversations going on last night and Jason will have a lot to investigate when this case was closed. The head of the Gotham City Bank is doing some very shady deals with the mob, and one of the younger Falcone's has a secret drug habit. Plus, there some things that he just finds interesting. Apparently, the new DA has a thing for Jim Gordon. It's just his luck that yet again he's drawn a blank with his actual investigation. No one said a thing about the lack of power in the bombs. Not one. He was hoping for some kind of clue. There weren't any alarms set off at the Manor either. What were they doing? Their original bombs would've been far more than just a distraction if they'd gone off. He's frustrated and not just from his encounter with Dick.

Maybe the mechanics of the bombs will help him figure out who set them? They were pretty distinctive. He sketches it out from memory. Will that give him a lead? He spends the rest of the day investigating, and eventually comes up with a name. The man has worked for a lot of groups in Gotham and Jason pulls up his address. He'll go there tomorrow. He's supposed to meet Davids and Max for a beer tonight.

The work isn't enough of a distraction to stop him thinking about Dick, however. He just can't stop. What if Dick figured out who he was? He doesn't know if that would be a good or bad thing. He's freaked out and he really can't deal, so he targets Dick's usual patrol routes with extra surveillance, so he won't encounter Dick accidentally. That would be a recipe for disaster. He isn't sure what kind of disaster, and he doesn't want to find out.

That night he gets very drunk with the guys. At least Davids and Max get very drunk. Jason's only kind of pretending. He's good at sleight of hand but he couldn't swap all his beers with the others'. He kind of wants to be drunk. Maybe that would stop him thinking about Dick Grayson and his strong hands and perfect face.

"There was such a huge fuck up at our last event. I'm surprised you haven't already heard," Max says

"Oh?" Jason says. 

"There was supposed to be a huge explosion, everyone was supposed to be evacuated, but instead it just broke some glass." He snorts. "They didn't have time to get in." This sounds very promising and Jason wills him to keep talking. 

"Shut up, man," Davids hisses. 

"Aww, we can trust Peterson. He's our bud." Max sloppily hugs Jason, who doesn't recoil. Much.

Davids nods. "At least no one was hurt," he adds with a resigned sigh.

"Dude, he stabbed Ramirez for the fuck up." Shit. Ramirez was the explosives expert. "He really wants Wayne's stuff." Max nods sagely. And there's the motivation, theft of some kind. Jason cheers internally. He's finally getting close.

"That's a big fuck up. He'd've had to-" Jason goes on a long highly technical spiel on how that could've happened.

Davids is looking at him quizzically. "You know this stuff."

"Yeah," Jason says. "A misspent youth and a lot of intense instructors." It isn't even a lie. They'll just assume he's referring to his supposed military background.

"Huh."

Jason has a feeling this will result in a job offer. He smiles and offers up a toast. Things are looking up.

* * *

Dick is exhausted and everything's terrible. There’s something wrong with his comm and he can’t contact Oracle, or anyone else. And he’s completely outnumbered, and it isn’t the first time, but someone got a good hit in and he wasn’t prepared for this tonight. It was sloppy and all he can think is this is an embarrassing way to die. Smothered by Dollotrons. Of all the villains to appear in Gotham recently, Professor Pyg is the most annoying. To make matters worse, he doesn’t even appear to be here. 

Dick shouldn’t have come out tonight. He’d barely had enough sleep over the last few nights, wrapping up the serial murders, and he’d planned a short patrol. Babs had mentioned an electricity spike in this building, and he thought he'd take a quick look on his way home, and he’d run into the warehouse full of Dollotrons. 

Dick can’t get a purchase on anything. He’s trying to move but there are just too many of them. Above him, below, him. Hands holding every inch of his body. He’d pushed and they are just pushed back into place by the next set and he can’t go up and he can’t go over and he’s trapped. 

They seemed to have learned, or seeing as this is a completely new set of Dollotrons, been trained, since he last fought his way out of this situation. They aren’t even trying to fight back. Just to restrain him and squash him and stop him moving and stop his breath until he can’t breathe anymore. But he’s Dick Grayson. He’s Nightwing. He can get out of anything, right? One of them has its fingers in his mouth, stopping him breathing or speaking and he can’t do anything to trigger the tasers hardwired into his suit and he can feel that his mask is broken. Several Dollotrons have arms and hands hooked around his limbs, he suspects there are at least 15 of them, and when one is dislodged another takes its place. He doesn’t know how long he’s been stuck here. It feels like an hour, but it probably hasn’t been more than a few minutes. 

Dick stops struggling and the Dollotron with a shoulder to his throat moves a little and he manages to take a gasping breath. They aren’t precise enough to cut off his blood supply in that struggling mass, otherwise he’d be unconscious already. As he takes his second breath, a muffled gunshot rings out, and then another and another and then he feels the grasp on him loosen on one leg and he manages to push down and plant it on something soft and then gets some leverage. Based on the sound of the gunshots, odds are that the cops have arrived. 

As he emerges from the thinning mass of Dollotrons, it isn’t to the view he expects. There aren’t any cops at all. There's just a masked figure that he quickly identifies as Jason. His helmet is a dark colour, not its usual red, and he’s cutting a swathe through the Dollotrons, with an unusual lack of fatalities. Dick hasn’t been this relieved to see someone in a long time. 

“Hey, Nightwing,” Jason says, between shots. “You looked like you were in need of a rescue.” 

“Thanks.” Dick catches his breath, before wading back into the fight. He’s careful to stay away from the biggest mass of Dollotrons, especially with a broken mask and damaged suit. “Don’t let them get your feet off the ground. They’re clever.”

He disables a few more Dollotrons and tries to forget they are just ordinary people under there. Their lives ruined by Pyg. He wasn’t even here for them. They had no idea Pyg was operating on this scale. They haven’t even seen that many missing persons reports.

It’s so strange to be fighting with Jason. But it’s working. He’s taking shots at the Dollotrons but none of them are lethal. Mostly kneecaps. Dick is impressed by the accuracy. Body mass is much easier to hit.

He hears Jason curse as a Dollotron moves, and then the Dollotron is downed by a shot to the shoulder. They’re still coming at them in force and Dick and Jason haven’t made much of a dent. They'll be swarmed again soon.

He makes his way towards Jason. “We need backup. Do you have a comm? They did a number on mine.”

“No time. We’ll have to gas them,” Jason shouts. “You got a mask?” 

“Not anymore.”

“Fuck. You’d better get out of here first. My bike’s round the back.” Jason points at a building with one gun, before taking a shot at a Dollotron behind Dick he hadn’t noticed.

Dick glares and doesn’t move. He isn’t leaving Jason alone. 

He can hear Jason’s sigh. Then Jason reaches into his jacket and throws a couple of gas canisters into the mass of Dollotrons. The last thing Dick remembers is Jason running towards him as he starts to collapse, with all the Dollotrons around him.

He comes to on a speeding motorbike pressed close to Jason’s back. He struggles a little before he realises where he is. He can feel he’s strapped to Jason to keep him in place, and his cheek is against the leather of Jason’s jacket. He feels safe, despite the speed and lack of control. 

“Hey, Dick. You with me now?” Jason asks. It’s almost gentle.

“Yeah,” Dick forces out. He’s barely with it. 

“I’ll drop you at the cave.” Jason leans into a turn, and Dick goes with him. “Alfred’s expecting you.”

“Uh huh.” 

”Dick?” Jason’s voice sounds like it is coming to him through a tunnel, “D-“ But Dick slips into unconsciousness as the drug overwhelms him again.


	3. Part 3 Dick and Jason

Dick aches. Aches everywhere. The fight with the Dollotrons last night was brutal, and he’s amazed he survived it. He’s certain he wouldn’t have if Jason hadn’t arrived. There seemed to be thousands of Dollotrons. Every time he took one down, another appeared. He still doesn’t know where they came from. Every inch of him feels bruised and can’t believe nothing needed stitches or is broken. Dick rests his head on the lip of the bathtub and stretches out as far as he can in the hot water. He discovered the secret of this bathroom years ago. It doesn't look like much, just a tiled space with an enormous cast iron tub that fills most of the room. It has none of the luxury of the bathrooms in the wing where most of the family have rooms, but it's one of Dick’s favourite places in the Manor for one reason and one reason only, an east facing window, perfect for watching the sun rise. It’s still dark but he can see the faint glimmer of dawn above the trees bordering the Wayne estate.

  
[Link to art by Lex_Of_Gotham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904518/chapters/49693076#workskin)

Alfred knows that he likes this bathroom, and like almost every room in the house the family uses with any regularity, it’s kept stocked, in this case with towels and toiletries. Dick isn’t really here to get clean, he’d showered the blood and dirt away in the cave, discarded with his uniform. But he’s carefully chosen a bubble bath and filled the bath with salts.

Dick lies back and watches the appearance of the sun. He can’t help thinking about Jason. He wishes he could’ve made Jason stay. He’d’ve been safer and less injured, but there was no chance to do that before a limping Jason had dragged his mostly unconscious form off his bike outside the entrance of the cave and sped off. The last thing Dick remembers clearly is Jason’s face covered in blood below his cracked mask as he turned away. Babs had assured him that Jason had checked in with her, for the first time since he'd been back, after he'd left Dick, and was fine.

He’s still trying to reconcile the Red Hood he knew from before, with the guy who teased him and had blown him away with his kisses, let alone the man who waded into a fight against impossible odds and got him out of there. He knows they are all Jason Todd, but he can’t make it make sense.

He thinks of the strength of Jason’s arms as he carried him and how big he is now. It felt different from being backed up against a wall and kissed, but he liked it just as much. Safe with Jason. That's a weird thought. Jason's someone who’s tried to kill him multiple times, but sometimes works with him, but always fights about it. This Jason was helpful. He thinks again about the feeling of being surrounded by Jason and feels himself start to harden. He hasn’t jerked off to memories of that night since he’d realised who the man in the mask was. It was too confusing, but now, Dick shivers a little in the warmth of the water as he remembers the feel of Jason’s lips. He trails his hand down his stomach and rubs a little, thinking of the feeling of Jason’s hand there. He moves it further below the water and lets his dick harden in his hands. He tries not to think. He enjoys the feeling of the water lapping against his skin and the bubbles popping. The smell of bergamot fills the air. It’s nothing like the way Jason smells normally, but Dick wonders if he chose it because it is a little like the cologne Jason wore that night. An unfamiliar scent was often a useful way to disguise yourself from people who knew you well and Jason knew that as well as he did.

Dick imagines Jason sprawled at the other end of the bath in front of him and wonders what he looks like under his clothes – scarred or not? It’s an enormous bath, but there’s barely room for them both. He imagines Jason’s knees next to his spreading his legs wider and watching him with that laser focus. The dawn light would backlight his dark hair, turning the edges into a halo and the golden light would bathe his skin. 

He realises that Jason had known exactly who he was when he kissed him and somehow that's hotter, because he'd been able to have a great conversation with a man who was nice to old ladies and maybe saved Alfred, and definitely saved him. And that was all Jason Todd. Wrapped up with those intense eyes and thick hair Dick is now imagining getting his hands into. Dick's breathing quickens. He speeds up his stroke on his foreskin and thinks about what it would be like under Jason's powerful hands. And then he’s coming, splashing water as his foot slips from its position on the edge of the bath.

Dick lets his hands drop after a last stroke and waits for his harsh breathing to subside. Christ, that was a good one. Over Jason. He shifts a little and groans as he's reminded of every ache. But the water is still hot, and he lies back and tries to clear his mind.

* * *

Jason uses the phone number Alfred gave him all those weeks ago and arranges to meet him at the new exhibition at the Gotham Public Library. It's called _Gotham in Literature_ and Jason's been looking forward to it for a while as it combines two of his favourite things. He and Alfred spend a couple of hours in there, discussing the books chosen, what they think was missing, and admiring contents and the bindings. There are books from the Library's extensive collections as well as loans from institutions and private collections from all over the world. Jason's wanted to see some of these books since he was a teenager. 

Near the end, Jason notices the name of one of the catering firm's directors, Schaeffer on the label describing the book. He's noted as the lender. Damn it. He can't get away from the investigation anywhere. He's actually seen several of the families who've been attacked listed as lenders as he's been going around, but he hadn't registered it. It could be a coincidence, or just a who's who of Gotham's wealthiest. Bruce is one of the few people with a rare book collection who hasn't lent anything. Then something clicks in Jason's head. Rare books. That's the connection. That's what they're trying to steal. There's an excellent market and thefts can go unnoticed for years, especially if just the illustrated plates are removed. 

Alfred notices his distraction and gently suggests they return another time. The exhibition will be open for another few months and they'll have plenty of opportunities to visit again. Jason agrees reluctantly, he was looking forward to pulling apart the interpretation of the exhibition with Alfred over a cup of coffee. But now all he can think about is the case. It makes perfect sense, little Jeremiah Cole loved the warm, cosy library at the Richardson's home, and he could've easily been playing in there when they'd stolen books.

That night he goes back to the catering firm's office to see the list of upcoming clients. There have been a few events in the week since the Wayne Manor benefit. Jason had missed a society wedding where there was a small fire, because he'd seen the security camera footage of Dick getting into trouble with the Dollotrons. Jason did not regret that decision at all. The fire at the wedding was blamed on a faulty curling iron, but Jason's seen the reports and he isn't sure that's true. It had all been cleaned up before he got there, or he'd have been able to tell more about the crime scene. He hates the smell of burning, but he's had to get used to it. 

Sitting in front of the old PC, Jason stares in disbelief at the list on the screen. The next party is another one at Wayne Manor, in two days’ time. It's the second part of the benefit. He rakes his hand through his hair and lets his forehead hit the keyboard. What are they thinking? He must go to protect Alfred. At this point he's seriously debating telling Dick, but why would Dick help him out? Dick has no idea what Jason's been doing. Dick doesn't have a clue who he'd kissed. Jason sighs and sits back up. At least this time he has more time to plan.

Jason's the one who texts the guys with a request to go out drinking that night. It's all part of his plan. He tells Davids his hours at his job have been cut and he needs to drown his sorrows. They're all already there when he enters the bar where they're meeting, fake sad, and exclaims that his job’s a bust. "Those assholes have cut my hours to nothing."

There's a chorus of sympathy, and Espinoza hands him a beer.

"I might have a solution," Davids tells him. "If you're as good with explosives as you say, there's a job for you." 

Jason doesn't hide an ounce of his eagerness. "Seriously? Thanks, man." 

Espinoza nods. "They'll need a demo of your skills, but I think you'll be fine. They want something set up for another party."

"Any chance to blow something up," Jason jokes.

"You sure you want this?" Davids says. He fixes Jason with a serious look. "You heard what happened to the last guy." 

"Nothing to worry about. I'm that good," Jason says, cocky as hell. "_I_ don't make mistakes."

* * *

Dick checks the police reports and he was right, none of the Dollotrons were killed, just incapacitated, and he starts to put together Jason's actions over the last few weeks. No gunshot deaths with Red Hood's distinctive bullets. Only one rumour of a Red Hood sighting and no deaths on the scene. It all adds up to a very surprising picture. Jason's changed. He isn't killing. 

When Dick heads down to the cave, he catches Alfred as he gathers together the destroyed uniforms. 

"I do hope you aren't planning on going out tonight, Master Dick," Alfred says.

Dick hums noncommittally. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He stretches his sore shoulder. "Did you see Jason last night?" 

"Master Jason?" Alfred says, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. He brought me back."

"I see." Alfred fiddles with the clasp on the gauntlet he was holding. "I hadn't realised that." He smiles. "Was he helping you?"

"He pretty much pulled me out of there." 

"I'd suspected there was still good in that young man." Alfred's smile is fond.

A slight suspicion dawns. "Alf, have _you_ seen Jason lately?" Dick asks. He tries not to sound too accusatory, but he can hear the sharp edge to his tone.

"I'd rather not say." Alfred's face is studiedly blank.

"Did he ask you not to say anything?" He takes Alfred's silence for assent. "Was he at the party because of you?"

"At the party?" Alfred raises his eyes to Dick. "The one last week?"

Dick pulls up the security footage of Jason in the mask chatting away. And then of Jason and the charges. 

"Oh, my lord. What is he doing?" Alfred goes a little pale. It sounds as if he's contemplating the prospect that Jason might be there to hurt them for the first time. 

"I think he was defusing some real bombs," Dick admits. 

Alfred sits down hard. "But why didn't he say anything to me?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

Alfred tells Dick about his last few encounters with Jason and Dick starts to build up a picture of what Jason's been doing over the last few weeks. 

"I really think he's found some peace," Alfred says. "I know how angry he's been with Bruce, with all of you. But he hasn't been like that around me."

Dick nods. Jason has changed, it was becoming increasingly obvious. A small crack in his heart that had broken when Jason had returned and wanted to destroy everything he'd loved was starting to heal. "You'd've been near the buffet table when they went off usually, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." Alfred says thoughtfully. "But then there were several requests for extra bottles of the 2007 Château Tomasi, and I went to fetch those from the cellar instead." 

It all fit. "I think Jason was there to keep you safe," Dick was certain of that now. 

"That poor dear boy." Yes. Dick really wished Alfred had shared more, it would've been less of a shock if he's even known Jason was back, but then Dick hadn't been terribly forthcoming himself.

* * *

Jason doesn't have any difficulty getting given the job of setting up explosives at the next party. His demonstration went perfectly. He didn't even see the boss who was apparently watching on camera. But that isn't the problem it could've been as he now has a very good idea who his target is. Jason doesn't know what he's going to do when he catches him, but he's very tempted to shoot him. 

The guy who created the bombs last time was shot, for fucking them up the first time, and that's Jason's fault, but he can't be sad. The explosives guy is just as culpable for Jeremiah Cole's death and he has a string of murders to his name, carried out for practically every rogue in Gotham. Jason would've done the deed himself if he wasn't trying to keep his hands cleanish.

Jason’s really going there for Alfred, and to finally stop this murderer, but getting to see Dick is a benefit he doesn’t want to admit to. Maybe he’ll be able to flirt with him again undercover.

Now Jason is in with the crew and he has an actual job to do, getting ready for the next event doesn't take quite as much preparation. They've apparently requested that all the waiting staff wear futuristic face paint and masks, to match the party's theme. It's hilariously similar to designs created to fool facial recognition, and he's starting to wonder if the party organiser is in on the job. He tries out the design he's given, and it doesn't take much alteration to it and even his most sophisticated face recognition systems stop working. 

He pulls together all the explosives required from his own stock. He could put together what they asked for in his sleep, it's so basic, but the really hard job is making sure it is detonated without hurting anyone, but still appears to have done its job. He takes two guns with him. One with tranqs and one with live ammo. He'll see which is the most appropriate when the time comes. They're stashed with the explosives in a fake refrigeration unit in one of the catering vans. He's even reactivated his remaining bugs from last week. It's astonishing no one at the Manor has found and removed them all, but he knows Dick has been very, very busy, and most of the others have been out of town. This time he's going to get some real evidence. He'll confront the boss himself if necessary.

Jason has two main roles, to get them past the security around the rare books and to create an explosive distraction. He'll plant a small charge that is supposed to short the security system, so the alarms won't go off and then the idea is to plant something on the stairs, and people upstairs will panic when they can't leave. Jason knows that there are at least four other fire escape routes clearly marked on the second floor, but whoever planned this isn't to know that. The Waynes all took fire safety very seriously. It's a ridiculously convoluted plot. Part of Jason can't believe they haven't been caught before. But it’s been going on for a while, without anyone noticing anything. That's Gotham for you. 

Jason arrives at the Manor in with the events team. He'll be spending most of his set up time far enough away from the food that he'll need a slightly different cover to the other guys. "The boss will be here tonight," Davids had said, as he helped Jason load the van. "He'll be here to ensure this attempt won't go wrong. I think he really wants this one for himself." 

It doesn't take long for Jason to rig the stairs. Six charges on alternating steps intended to blow in succession when he detonates them. He's put a couple more in the pot plants at the foot of the stairs. The pots were specially designed to deal with the deluge of drinks that Bruce was sure to tip away if he was forced to pick up some champagne. The explosives in there will go upwards like fireworks but shouldn't break the pots. It's unlikely that they'll hurt anyone. When that's done, he makes himself useful. The party is starting, and he's supposed to help serve drinks as the guests arrive. He does that for a while until Dick appears across the room, wearing a beautifully tailored tuxedo. Jason really wants to go over to him, but he's worried his face paint and mask won't stand up as a disguise close up. Instead Jason ducks away to fetch a fresh tray of champagne. 

Dick's only concession to the theme of the party is a smear of blue paint diagonally across his face, and a thin line of dark blue eyeliner. Jason had noticed earlier that the smear was the exact same colour as his eyes, and it looks unfairly beautiful. He's surprised because the bright colours of most of the face decorations are exactly Dick's sort of thing, but maybe Alfred had a hand in it. It wouldn't do for the person throwing the party to look as if they had no taste.

After a few more near misses, Jason heads into the gardens. He wanders for a little, and then he remembers his favourite hiding place in a little grove of trees. It's at least an hour until he needs to set off the charges and he needs to get away.

Jason rests his back against the tree. It's in such a secluded bit of the garden, no one will find him. It was his secret hiding place during parties and neither Alfred or Bruce ever found him here. It's out of earshot, and out of sight of the house. He takes some time to think and pulls out his phone, to check the surveillance footage. His phone is also the remote detonator for the explosives so he can't lose it.

He hears a rustle above him, but before he can assume it's a bird, Dick's upside-down face swings into view. Jason is too well trained to jump but it's a close thing. Dick might've stopped being Batman but it hasn't stopped him acting like a bat of a different sort. 

"Hey," Dick says, and he's dangling from the sturdy branch above Jason by his knees. Hair flopping down, and his jacket hanging from his shoulders. 

"It's you," Jason says, and slips his phone in his pocket as discreetly as he can. He really doesn't want Dick to see what's on it. He doesn't want to look remotely suspicious because if he loses control of the situation and something goes wrong with the explosives, Alfred would be in danger. And his best chance to solve this case would be wasted.

"I thought I recognised that walk." Dick sounds satisfied with himself. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We have to stop meeting like this," Dick quips. "You really like your masks." And he swings himself down from the tree in a neat flip, landing perfectly at Jason's feet. 

  
[Link to art by Lex_Of_Gotham](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904518/chapters/49693076#workskin)

Jason lets how impressed he is show, because Pete would. "Nice moves."

Dick laughs. "It was nothing special." He cocks his head and looks up at Jason through his eyelashes. "Are you hiding?"

"Maybe." He's still feeling flustered and this is the last thing he needs. 

"This has always been a good place to hide. Mind some company?" Dick bites his lower lip and his gaze is focussed on Jason's mouth.

It's obvious what Dick means, and Jason can't stop himself when he backs Dick against the tree. He tells himself it'll be another distraction. 

He leans in as if to kiss Dick. "I was hoping I'd see you here," he whispers against Dick's mouth instead. He can almost feel the blinking of Dick's eyelashes against his skin, they're so close.

"Yeah?" Dick whispers back.

"Yeah." He doesn't move. He just waits.

Dick huffs, and then closes the distance between them and kisses him. It's just as good as Jason remembers, even though It's practically chaste, and he can feel Dick's heart rate increase. Dick slips his arms around Jason's neck. There's face paint smeared all over Dick's face, and Jason can only imagine what his own face looks like now. He likes it. 

Dick's kisses are more careful than they'd been before. He's treating Jason like he's precious. Like he's his boyfriend, not a random hook-up. Jason kisses back like he can't get enough. They exchange slow, deep kisses, and Jason feels dazed. The setting sun is bathing them with a golden glow and Dick looks beautiful. And he almost wants to stop kissing and just look at him. It feels as if they must've been out here for a long time. But it can't have been long, or Jason's alarm would've sounded. 

Jason looks down at Dick’s hand, stroking the bulge in his pants. A thin white scar crosses the back of his hand and Jason recoils at the years-old memory of his knife slicing into Dick’s hand. What had he been thinking back then? But before he can tumble into the hole of that memory, Dick slips his hand down, and opens up Jason's fly. He frees Jason's cock from his briefs and then before Jason knows what is happening, he has his back against the tree and Dick's on his knees in front of him. Dick nuzzles at Jason's cock, while Jason is still gaping down at him in surprise. 

"Is this ok, sweetheart?" Dick asks, concern in his voice and worried eyes looking up through those long lashes. 

"Uh, yeah," Jason gets out after a second. And then gasps as Dick grasps him with one hand and swallows him down. It's been a long time since he's done this, and this feels as good as he remembers from his dreams. 

Jason always meant to pay attention the next time this happened so he could work out how to reciprocate, but he's been getting hard for so long that his brain feels like it's short circuited. And it isn't long before he's coming. Coming deep in Dick Grayson's mouth. And it feels amazing. He can feel Dick swallowing and swallowing until he's done. 

Dick is as graceful in this as everything, and he pulls off Jason at exactly the right moment. Drying him immediately with his handkerchief, so he barely feels the chill of the breeze against his damp cock, before he's tucked neatly away back in his pants, only a little wet from the precome that was there already. 

Jason can hear himself panting and his heart is thumping. 

Dick stands, and kisses him, first on his cheek, and then when Jason chases his mouth a little, kisses him there. His tongue tastes a little sour from Jason's come, but it's still good. Dick's hand is stroking his back repetitively. It's soothing.

"Still good, sweetheart?" Dick asks. And Jason wants to stay there forever. His legs feel a little noodly. But he can feel Dick's cock hard against his inner thigh and suddenly he wants more of that. 

Jason smiles at Dick. He's pretty sure it's a little dopey. "I'd love to return the favour." He puts as much feeling as he can into it, to convince Dick. He's clearly done something to show his inexperience.

It works as Dick replies, "I'd love it if you did."

Jason kneels awkwardly in front of Dick, and opens his pants, pulling them down below his hip so that Dick's totally exposed. He wants to touch everywhere. He takes his time exploring with his hands and his mouth. It isn't the first time he's done this but it's the first time he's really wanted to make it good. He accustoms himself to the taste and feel as Dick makes soft noises above him. 

"You're so good," Dick croons.

The light has faded around them, the dusk fading into night. Jason opens his eyes and he can only see Dick's outline, against the faint light from the party. Dick cards his hands through his hair, encouraging but not pushing and Jason finally puts his mouth around him. One hand is circling Dick's cock, the other holding onto the muscle of his butt. 

"God, your mouth." Dick's pubic hair scratches as Jason's nose, and he can smell Dick all round him. He tries to move slowly so he doesn't choke. 

Jason finds himself build a rhythm and he can feel Dick's pulse increasing and the sound of his breathing quickening and quickening. 

Dick pulls away a little, as much as Jason's position and the tree will let him and chokes out, "I'm gonna come."

But Jason is determined that he'll make Dick feel as good as he made him feel. It'll be his secret memory. And then Dick pulses in his mouth and he thinks how good he must've made him feel, then above him he hears, “God, Jay.” It’s quiet but sounds like a shout in the silence around them.

Jason pulls back and scrambles to his feet. He doesn’t care that his mouth is full of come and his pants are still partly open. Doesn’t care that he was in the middle of the best sex he’s ever had. Doesn't care about the afterglow. 

He sputters through his full mouth, and coughs. He should've known that Dick must have worked it out. It had been obvious, but he’d pretended that it wasn’t. Just two guys together. No history, no hidden agendas.

This wasn't his plan.

Dick looks at Jason and the only way he can describe it is full of affection and that’s just… no. That doesn't fit with his world view. Dick doesn't see Jason Todd with affection. Jason's a problem to fix. 

“Fuck you, Grayson.” 

"Jay?" Dick looks bewildered and beautiful, and Jason has to leave now. He backs away.

Dick's face collapses into hurt, for a moment. He tries to control it. He shouldn't be looking at Jason like that.

"I know you saved me." Dick says quietly. "And I knew -- I found out it was you at the party. I'm not stupid Jason, I figured out you were trying to help." He doesn't say anything about Bruce's rules. But Jason knows what he means. And some small part of Jason hates that he caused that. But he also furious that Dick knew who he was and – Jason doesn’t know – never said anything. He turns and ignores Dick's voice and he runs off into the dark.

* * *

After Jason leaves, Dick stands there under the tree and wonders what just happened. He wants to run after Jason and bring him back and find out, because that was so good. In hindsight he supposes it was weird that Jason hadn't called him by any of the derisive nicknames he’d developed over the years. He hoped Jason was actually seeing Dick Grayson the person, not the symbol he was angry with. But now he realises that Jason was still hiding. Christ. How does he always fuck up relationships so hard?

Then his phone goes off and it's because one of the security alarms has been tripped. He does up his pants and sprints back towards the Manor.

* * *

Jason's running nowhere in particular. He needs to get away. Dick's ruined his favourite place to find calm at the Manor that isn't the roof. He'd go there if he didn't know Bruce had it covered with motion sensors. Before he can brood too much, the timer in his pockets goes off, so Jason changes direction. He's got ten minutes until he has to set off the charges.

Jason stops his headlong run as he approaches the house. God knows what kind of security alert that would set off. He manages to slip in a side door and passes Davids, who is working this job, moving a crate of used glasses. He takes in Jason's appearance with his flushed face, askew mask, and dishevelled clothes and smirks, saying, “Heyyy, Peterson.” Then his face suddenly pales, and the smirk melts off his face. “Shouldn't you be setting up,” he hisses. “You don't want to fuck this up. I know you know what happened to the last guy.”

“I'm all done,” Jason says. “I'm just going to, uh freshen up.” He points in the general direction of the catering kitchen. “It'll be fine, man.” 

Davids nods and keeps going. Jason rushes to find Alfred to ensure he's out of the way. There's no time to think about Dick.

Jason knows that the distraction he's been asked to set up won't happen as anticipated. And the small charge certainly won't create a break in the rare books security system and release the locks to the library in the way they are expecting. It's standard procedure for the security system Bruce supposedly has, but it’s also Batman’s security system, so obviously he's made his own adjustments. Jason pulls his weapons from where he's stashed them and fastens the holsters under a jacket he'd brought for that purpose.

It isn't much time before Jason is standing outside the library. The room is open, but all the books of any value are in unobtrusive glass cabinets. The day he'd been given a key to them is one of Jason's best memories. That still leaves most of the books on open shelves. It's a library meant for use. One of the catering staff has been stationed on the door with a tray to hold people's drinks before they go into the library -- it's a wise precaution. A glassful of red wine in the wrong place could destroy a book. 

There are a lot of people in the hall outside the library, milling around, chatting and enjoying themselves. Jason really hopes he's right about the target. He placed cameras around this space, and in the library. 

Jason checks his watch, and then his phone vibrates in his breast pocket. Time to go. He pulls out his phone and activates the charges. For a second nothing happens and then the explosions go off. Everyone around him ducks. There's silence and then the shrieking starts. Jason desperately wants to check what's happened. He really hopes no one was hurt. But he has to stay here.

Max rushes past Jason with a miraculously intact tray of drinks, from the direction of the library, but he doesn't acknowledge Jason. Jason edges closer to the group in the corner who were talking to the Mayor. Jim Gordon is already on his feet looking round. Just as Max passes them. One of them turns to Max, “What are you doing here?” he bites out. His voice is menacing, but so soft Jason can barely hear him. "You're supposed to be getting the book.” 

Max freezes. And Jason blinks. He's never seen this guy before. He looks like a lot of the other guests at the benefit, a balding old white man in a tailored tuxedo. Jason runs through his mental list of guests and suspects and there is something about his eyes and nose that resembles the photograph of Schaeffer, the man he now thinks murdered Jeremiah, but he doesn't look much like his photographs any more. Jason curses internally. He was standing so close to Jason and he didn't recognise him. He's clearly meant to be here as he'd just broken off a conversation with the Mayor before the explosion. 

“Uh. It's a no go, sir.” Max says, glancing at the Mayor and the new DA who move closer as someone passes by on their other side. Max is much more involved than Jason had thought. He really hopes this conversation is being picked up by his microphones.

Jason puts his hands close to his guns, he really wants to shoot this guy, he just needs a little more proof. Then Dick comes up behind him, and whispers, "Don't jump, Jason. What's the play?"

Jason doesn't even hesitate before explaining. "They were going to use the explosives I set up in the hall as a distraction to trip the security and get into the rare books. I think it's that guy behind it and he's unpredictable."

"Good," Dick says. He doesn't sound surprised, just as business-like as he always does s Nightwing. Jason's always admired that about him.

"We should warn Alfred. This guy isn't afraid to kill." 

Dick pulled out his phone and sends a quick message. "Done." 

Jason draws his full focus back as the voice of the man berating Max raises in volume. "What the fuck do you mean it’s a no go," The man is getting redder and redder, his anger blatant on his face. "I need that book." He's definitely the boss of the whole operation.

Max backs away, but the man follows, looming over him. The pandemonium in the reception hall has reached a maximum, but he can still hear them. 

"The alarm's still active." Max is terrified, but still trying to be discreet. Jason can see that's a losing battle, as the boss finally loses what's left of his temper and grabs Max's neck with the clear intention of choking him. It's obvious he has no idea how to do that effectively. 

Gordon has clearly realised that the most pressing issue is in here, and grabs for the boss, at the same time as Jason and Dick. It doesn't take long before he and Max are separated and they're both restrained. 

"Grayson," Gordon barks. "Do you know what's going on here?" 

Dick nods, grim faced. "This man just tripped an alarm trying to break into the library," he indicates Max. "I suspect he was attempting to steal our first editions."

"And Mr Schaeffer is clearly the one he was stealing it for, based on the conversation I just heard," Gordon finishes. He sighs. "Never a dull moment with you Waynes."

"This isn't the first time," Jason says. "These thefts have been going on for years." 

"I should kill you like I killed that kid," the boss snarls at Max. Jason should be grateful he doesn't recognise him as the one who messed everything up. 

Gordon pulls out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. "Spencer, could you call this in," he asks the DA. He shakes his head. "I thought better of you, Schaeffer." He looks at Jason, "And what do you have to do with this?" 

"I've been investigating this-" Gordon gives Jason a puzzled look. Jason tries to remember if he has an appropriate ID on him.

"For me," Dick interrupts. "We were worried, especially after last week."

Jason's still in the mask, but Gordon's eyes narrow, as if he's trying to figure out where he's seen Jason before, and there's no way that'll have a good outcome. and Jason looks down. 

"Right. I think I have things under control here. Grayson," Gordon orders. "Go see to your guests. It looks like you've got a situation out there." He turns around. "Young man," he says to Jason. "Please keep hold of the waiter until my men arrive. I think you'll be able to hold him alone." Max looks betrayed, but thankfully doesn't say anything.

Dick nods and lets go. Before he leaves, he gives Jason's back a discreet caress. Jason tries not to push into it visibly. "Please don't leave," he whispers. "I really want to talk to you. So does Alfred." 

Jason flushes and he can't stop himself from staring at Dick as he walks away.

* * *

It's hours before things are cleared up. Max, another waiter Jason doesn't know, and Schaeffer are arrested, and taken away by the GCPD. Jason gives his name as Todd Peterson, and then makes himself scarce. He emails all the evidence to Babs and goes to hide in the family kitchen and wait for Alfred. He can't stop yawning. He's so exhausted. He could leave but finds that he wants to stay. He pulls out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and slumps down in it, in the spot that was always his. 

He remains there for a long time, waiting. All he has to do is think about everything that’s happened that evening. He should be happy. The case he's been working on for weeks is solved, Jeremiah's Cole's murderer has been caught, and no new innocent people have been hurt. But he isn't. There’s always a weird feeling of anti-climax at the end of a case and the absence of purpose has hit him heavily.

He wishes he could read something, that always stops him thinking, but the library's a crime scene and he doesn’t want to draw any more attention from the cops. Jim Gordon isn’t an idiot, and if he puts a dead boy and an alive man associated with Bruce together, however improbable, he might recognise Jason. 

They may have arrested Schaeffer, and he even confessed, but that won’t bring back Jeremiah Cole. There’s part of Jason that still wants to put a bullet in Schaeffer's skull, that would’ve done so if he'd been alone when he'd confessed. He imagines the expression on Dick’s face if he had. And he realises that he doesn’t want to see that. Dick would look so betrayed. 

He keeps getting stuck on the fact that Dick knew who he was and still wanted him. He wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t run away. If he'd stuck around for the afterglow and more precious time with Dick. He wishes he hadn't left. What a panicky fool.

Jason taps his fingers against the hard wood of the kitchen table. There’s still a small gouge in it, and Jason stares at it. He’s pretty sure that it’s from where he’d dropped a knife while Alfred was teaching him to cook, not long before he died. He doesn’t understand why it is still there. Alfred had had so many things he’s damaged, both unintentionally and deliberately, fixed immediately. In most cases you’d never know it was damaged. So why was this still there? It feels a little smooth, and fractionally indented under his fingers. 

Alfred enters the room. He sees where Jason is looking. His lips twist, but he doesn't say anything. He looks as tired as Jason feels.

Jason breaks the silence. “You didn’t get this fixed.”

Alfred actually shrugs. “Memories," he says, a little cryptically” He sits down opposite Jason and puts his hands on the table and clasps them in front of him. He surveys Jason from top to toe. His keen eyes probably taking in everything Jason wishes he could conceal. His exhaustion, his dishevelled costume, his guns and his misery. "My dear boy, are you well?" 

"Sure," Jason prevaricates.

Alfred raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I hear you’ve been rather busy tonight.” 

"It was a case I've been working on for while."

“I’m surprised you cared about Master Bruce’s books."

"I wasn’t here for the books." Jason looks down at his lap. "I was worried about you," he mutters.

"Thank you. It’s good to have you back. I must say I was despairing of ever seeing you in my kitchen again.” As they talk, Alfred runs his thumb carefully over the scratch. It looks like an unintentional movement. And Jason suddenly knows where the polish comes from. 

He must make a sound and Alfred looks down at his hands. “Ah, yes. I could never quite bring myself to erase it." He smiles at Jason. "Now, would you care for a hot cocoa?”

Jason tries to suppress a yawn. “Yeah, thanks.” Alfred busies himself with the familiar activity of making cocoa. And Jason feels a little like a kid again.

Alfred just sets the two full mugs of cocoa on the counter, when Dick bursts in through the door. "Hey, Alfie," he says, and stops short at the sight of Jason. 

Jason's in the middle of a jaw-breaking yawn. It's hard to be on the defensive while yawning.

"Master Dick," Alfred says, with a smile. "Are the guests and the police all gone?"

"Yep. Finally," Dick says. "Hey, Jay. You stayed." He sounds so damn happy about it. The look on his face is just like the one he'd had before Jason had turned tail and run out on him. 

“Uh, yeah." Jason says and feels his face heat violently. He doesn’t know what to say and bites his lip. Dick's eyes flicker down to it.

"I'll just leave the two of you alone. I think you’ve got a lot to say to each other." Alfred says. Jason had almost forgotten he was there. Alfred picks up one of the mugs of hot cocoa and leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him. It feels pointed. 

Dick goes a little red, almost matching the colour of his swollen lips. He doesn't say anything after Alfred leaves, he just pulls Jason into an enormous hug. Jason can't resist hugging back. It feels wonderful. 

"You did good, Little Wing," Dick says finally, his nose buried in Jason's hair. He seems as reluctant to let go as Jason. "Babs just called me about your files. I had no idea half of this was going on."

"I couldn't let them get away with murdering a kid," Jason says. He wonders which half Dick did know about, but not enough to ask.

"You wouldn't," Dick says. Jason can hear the confidence in his voice. He feels a soft press against his scalp, and wonders if it was a kiss. He hopes it was. "God I'm exhausted," Dick says, and pulls away a little and looks at Jason. He brushes his hand over the mask, which is now seriously crushed. "Why are you still wearing that thing?"

Jason shrugs, he doesn't really have a good reason. He's almost forgotten he was wearing it. "Didn't know who'd come in." 

Dick tugs at it, but it's securely fastened. Jason winces as it pulls on his skin. "Come on. I have solvent and a very comfortable bed upstairs." Dick gives him a hopeful smile. "Stay with me for the night?"

Right now, Jason can't think of a single reason to refuse. Dick's giving him the chance to try again. He entwines his fingers with Dick's as they walk upstairs. He looks at Dick, and hopes everything he is feeling is coming through. 

Dick’s wide smile is confirmation enough.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The weeks after are some of the strangest of Jason's life, and he's been adopted by Batman and come back from the dead. Jason’s spent most of his time with Dick. They don't seem to be able to keep their hands off each other, and it's amazing. But it isn't all sex. Jason still occasionally explodes when he's overwhelmed, but he's managed to stick around long enough after that Dick can figure out what's happening. Dick even invites him to patrol with him a few times and they're investigating the new Dollotrons. 

Jason has avoided the Manor since that first night and they've stayed in Jason's apartment or Dick's. They've had more than one mildly awkward breakfast with Alfred. Jason's still more comfortable with Alfred one to one and they've been meeting regularly. Barbara, who seems mildly amused by them, is the only one apart from Alfred who knows what Jason's been doing. That's going to change today. 

"Are you sure?" Dick asks, stroking a thumb down Jason's cheek. As a reassurance, it doesn't do much.

"Just get on with it," Jason says tightly.

Jason holds tight to Dick's hand as they reach the door to the kitchen. It's the only thing keeping him there.

"Morning, Bruce," Dick says, walking in first with his usual easy smile. Bruce looks up and nods at him and takes a sip from his mug of coffee. Over Dick's shoulder Jason can see Alfred carrying a basket of rolls to the table. Jason walks around the corner, as Dick adds, "Jason's here to see you."

The rapidly buried flash of astonishment on Bruce's face as he takes in Jason's face and their clasped hands, gripped together like lifeline, will stay with him for a long time. 

Bruce carefully lowers his cup of coffee. 

"Hey Bruce," Jason says. "I've been back in Gotham for a while. Thought I'd come and see how you were."

He can practically see Bruce mentally cycle through the reports on criminal activity in Gotham Dick had provided him with the day before, and not see any evidence of the Red Hood's activity. A tentative smile appears on his face.

"Welcome home, Jay lad." Bruce gets up and clasps his shoulder firmly. Not quite a hug, but exactly as much as Jason can take right now. "Pull up a chair. We have pancakes."

The end


End file.
